Celebrated crimes

DERUE
LA CONS"^ '

ILLL'SIRATED
".;iaM aAaa aaA uoy ho
8*TI .q—

P F COLLIEk ec »0N
NEW YORK

DO NOT STIR; MESSIEURS;
OR YOU ARE DEAD MEN."

—p. 1743

From the original illustration by Bourdet

DERUES
LA CONSTANTIN

VOLUME V
ILLUSTRATED

P F COLLIER & SON
NEW YORK

', "i

Copyright igio
By p. F. Collier & Son

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\4 "^ 1

V.5

DERUES

ONE September afternoon in 1751, towards
half-past five, about a score of small boys,
chattering, pushing, and tumbling over one another
like a covey of partridges, issued from one of the
religious schools of Chartres. The joy of the little
troop just escaped from a long and wearisome
captivity was doubly great: a slight accident to
one of the teachers had caused the class to be dis-
missed half an hour earlier than usual, and in con-
sequence of the extra work thrown on the teach-
ing staff the brother whose duty it was to see all
the scholars safe home was compelled to omit that
part of his daily task. Therefore not only thirty
or forty minutes were stolen from work, but there
was also unexpected, uncontrolled liberty, free
from the surveillance of that black-cassocked over-
seer who kept order in their ranks. Thirty minutes !
at that age it is a century, of laughter and prospec-
tive games! Each had promised solemnly, under
pain of severe punishment, to return straight to his
paternal nest without delay, but the air was so fresh
and pure, the country smiled all around! The

1473

Uumus — Vol. 5 — -V

31-7333

CELEBRATED CRIMES

school, or preferably the cage, which had just
opened, lay at the extreme edge of one of the
suburbs, and it only required a few steps to slip
under a cluster of trees by a sparkling brook be-
yond which rose undulating ground, breaking the
monotony of a vast and fertile plain. Was it
possible to be obedient, to refrain from the desire
to spread one's wings? The scent of the meadows
mounted to the heads of the steadiest among them,
and intoxicated even the most timid. It was
resolved to betray the confidence of the reverend
fathers, even at the risk of disgrace and punish-
ment next morning, supposing the escapade were
discovered.

A flock of sparrows suddenly released from a
cage could not have flown more wildly into the little
wood. They were all about the same age, the eldest
might be nine. They flung off coats and waist-
coats, and the grass became strewn with baskets,
copy-books, dictionaries, and catechisms. While
the crowd of fair-haired heads, of fresh and smil-
ing faces, noisily consulted as to which game should
be chosen, a boy who had taken no part in the
general gaiety, and who had been carried away by
the rush without being able to escape sooner,
glided slyly away among the trees, and, thinking
himself unseen, was beating a hasty retreat, when
one of his comrades cried out —

1474

DERUES

" Antoine is running away ! '*

Two of the best runners immediately started in
pursuit, and the fugitive, notwithstanding his start,
was speedily overtaken, seized by his collar, and
brought back as a deserter.

" Where were you going? " the others demanded.

" Home to my cousins," replied the boy ; " there
is no harm in that.'*

" You canting sneak ! " said another boy, putting
his fist under the captive's chin; "you were going
to the master to tell of us."

" Pierre," responded Antoine, " you know quite
well I never tell lies."

" Indeed ! — only this morning you pretended I
had taken a book you had lost, and you did it
because I kicked you yesterday, and you didn't dare
to kick me back again."

Antoine lifted his eyes to heaven, and folding
his arms on his breast —

" Dear Buttel," he said, " you are mistaken ; I
have always been taught to forgive injuries."

" Listen, listen ! he might be saying his prayers ! '*
cried the other boys; and a volley of offensive
epithets, enforced by cuffs, was hurled at the
culprit.

Pierre Buttel, whose influence was great, put a
stop to this onslaught.

" Look here, Antoine, you are a bad lot, that we
1475

CELEBRATED CRIMES

all know ; you are a sneak and a hypocrite. It's
time we put a stop to it. Take off your coat and
fight it out. If you like, we will fight every morn-
ing and evening till the end of the month."

The proposition was loudly applauded, and
Pierre, turning up his sleeves as far as his elbows,
prepared to suit actions to words.

The challenger assuredly did not realise the full
meaning of his words ; had he done so, this chival-
rous defiance would simply have been an act of
cowardice on his part, for there could be no doubt
as to the victor in such a conflict. The one was
a boy of alert and gallant bearing, strong upon his
legs, supple and muscular, a vigorous man in
embryo; while the other, not quite so old, small,
thin, of a sickly leaden complexion, seemed as if
he might be blown away by a strong puff of wind.
His skinny arms and legs hung on to his body
like the claws of a spider, his fair hair inclined to
red, his white skin appeared nearly bloodless, and
the consciousness of weakness made him timid, and
gave a shifty, uneasy look to his eyes. His whole
expression was uncertain, and looking only at his
face it was difficult at first sight to decide to which
sex he belonged. This confusion of two natures,
this indefinable mixture of feminine weakness
without grace, and of abortive boyhood, seemed
to stamp him as something exceptional, unclassable,

1476

DERUES

and once observed, it was difficult to take one's eyes
from him. Had he been endowed with physical
strength he would have been a terror to his com-
rades, exercising by fear the ascendancy which
Pierre owed to his joyous temper and unwearied
gaiety, for this mean exterior concealed extraordi-
nary powers of will and dissimulation. Guided by
instinct, the other children hung about Pierre and
willingly accepted his leadership; by instinct also
they avoided Antoine, repelled by a feeling of chill,
as if from the neighbourhood of a reptile, and
shunning him unless to profit in some way by their
superior strength. Never would he join their games
without compulsion ; his thin, colourless lips seldom
parted for a laugh, and even at that tender age his
smile had an unpleasantly sinister expression.

" Will you fight? " again demanded Pierre.

Antoine glanced hastily round; there was no
chance of escape, a double ring enclosed him. To
accept or refuse seemed about equally risky; he
ran a good chance of a thrashing whichever way
he decided. Although his heart beat loudly, no
trace of emotion appeared on his pallid cheek; an
unforeseen danger would have made him shriek,
but he had had time to collect himself, time to
shelter behind hypocrisy. As soon as he could lie
and cheat he recovered courage, and the instinct of
cunning, once roused, prevailed over everything

1477

CELEBRATED CRIMES

else. Instead of answering this second challenge,
he knelt down and said to Pierre —

" You are much stronger than I am."

This submission disarmed his antagonist. " Get
up," he replied; "I won't touch you, if you can't
defend yourself."

" Pierre," continued Antoine, still on his knees,
" I assure you, by God and the Holy Virgin, I was
not going to tell. I was going home to iny cousins
to learn my lessons for to-morrow ; you know how
slow I am. If you think I have done you any
harm, I ask your forgiveness."

Pierre held out his hand and made him get up.

" Will 3^ou be a good fellow, Antoine, and play
with us?"

" Yes, I will."

" All right, then; let us forget all about it."

"What are we to play at?" asked Antoine,
taking off his coat.

" Thieves and archers," cried one of the boys.

" Splendid ! " said Pierre ; and using his acknowl-
edged authority, he divided them into two sides —
ten highwaymen, whom he was to command, and
ten archers of the guard, who w^ere to pursue
them; Antoine was among the latter.

The highwaymen, armed with swords and guns
obtained from the willows which grew along the
brook, moved off first, and gained the valleys be-

1478

DERTJES

tween the little hills beyond the wood. The fight
was to be serious, and any prisoner on either side
was to be tried immediately. The robbers divided
into twos and threes, and hid themselves in the
ravines.

A few minutes later the archers started in pur-
suit. There were encounters, surprises, skirmishes ;
but whenever it came to close quarters, Pierre's
men, skilfully distributed, united on hearing his
whistle, and the Army of Justice had to retreat.
But there came a time when this magic signal was
no longer heard, and the robbers became uneasy,
and remained crouching in their hiding-places.
Pierre, over-daring, had undertaken to defend
alone the entrance of a dangerous passage and to
stop the whole hostile troop there. Whilst he kept
them engaged, half of his men, concealed on the
left, were to come round the foot of the hill and
make a rush on hearing his whistle ; the other half,
also stationed at some little distance, were to
execute the same manoeuvre from above. The
archers would be caught in a trap, and attacked
both in front and rear, would be obliged to sur-
render at discretion. Chance, which not unfre-
quently decides the fate of a battle, defeated this
excellent stratagem. Watching intently, Pierre
failed to perceive that while his whole attention
was given to the ground in front, the archers had

1479

CELEBRATED CRIIMES

taken an entirely different road from the one they
ought to have followed if his combination were to
succeed. They suddenly fell upon him from be-
hind, and before he could blow his whistle, they
gagged him with a handkerchief and tied his
hands. Six remained to keep the field of battle
and disperse the hostile band, now deprived of its
chief; the remaining four conveyed Pierre to the
little wood, while the robbers, hearing no signal,
did not venture to stir. According to agreement,
Pierre Buttel was tried by the archers, who
promptly transformed themselves into a court of
justice, and as he had been taken red-handed, and
did not condescend to defend himself, the trial was
not a long affair. He was unanimously sentenced
to be hung, and the execution was then and there
carried out, at the request of the criminal himself,
who wanted the game to be properly played to the
end, and who actually selected a suitable tree for
his own execution.

" But, Pierre," said one of the judges, " how can
you be held up there ? "

" How stupid you are ! " returned the captive. " I
shall only pretend to be hung, of course. See
here ! " and he fastened together several pieces of
strong string which had tied some of the other
boys' books, piled the latter together, and standing
on tiptoe on this very insecure basis, fastened one

1480

DERUES

end of tlie cord to a horizontal bough, and put his
neck into a running knot at the other end, en-
deavouring to imitate the contortions of an actual
sufferer. Shouts of laughter greeted him, and the
victim laughed loudest of all. Three archers went
to call the rest to behold this amusing spectacle;
one, tired out, remained with the prisoner,

" Ah, Hangman," said Pierre, putting out his
tongue at him, " are the books firm ? I thought I
felt them give way."

" No," replied Antoine ; it was he who remained.
" Don't be afraid, Pierre."

" It is a good thing; for if they fell I don't think
the cord is long enough."

" Don't you really think so ? "

A horrible thought showed itself like a flash on
the child's face. He resembled a young hyena
scenting blood for the first time. He glanced at the
pile of books Pierre was standing on, and compared
it with the length of the cord between the branch
and his neck. It was already nearly dark, the
shadows were deepening in the wood, gleams of
pale light penetrated between the trees, the leaves
had become black and rustled in the wind. Antoine
stood silent and motionless, listening if any sound
could be heard near them.

It would be a curious study for the moralist to
observe how the first thought of crime develops

1481

CELEBRATED CRIMES

itself in the recesses of the human heart, and how
this poisoned germ grows and stifles all other sen-
timents; an impressive lesson might be gathered
from this struggle of two opposing principles,
however weak it may be, in perverted natures. In'
cases where judgment can discern, where there is
power to choose between good and evil, the guilty-
person has only himself to blame, and the most
heinous crime is only the action of its perpetrator.
It is a human action, the result of passions which
might have been controlled, and one's mind is not
uncertain, nor one's conscience doubtful, as to the
guilt. But how can one conceive this taste for
murder in a young child, how imagine it, without
being tempted to exchange the idea of eternal sov-
ereign justice for that of blind fatality? How
can one judge without hesitation between the moral
sense which has given way and the instinct which
displays itself? how not exclaim that the designs
of a Creator who retains the one and impels the
other are sometimes mysterious and inexplicable,
and that one must submit without understanding?

" Do you hear them coming? " asked Pierre.

" I hear nothing," replied Antoine, and a nervous
shiver ran through all his members.

" So much the worse. I am tired of being dead ;
I shall come to life and run after them. Hold the
books, and I will undo the noose."

1482

DERUES

** If you move, the books will separate; wait, I
will hold them."

And he knelt down, and collecting all his
strength, gave the pile a violent push.

Pierre endeavoured to raise his hands to his
throat. "What are you doing? " he cried in a
suffocating voice.

" I am paying you out," replied Antoine, folding
his arms.

Pierre's feet were only a few inches from the
ground, and the weight of his body at first bent the
bough for a moment ; but it rose again, and the un-
fortunate boy exhausted himself in useless efforts.
At every movement the knot grew tighter, his legs
struggled, his arms sought vainly something to lay
hold of; then his movements slackened, his limbs
stiffened, and his hands sank down. Of so much
life and vigour nothing remained but the movement
of an inert mass turning round and round upon
itself.

Not till then did Antoine cry for help, and when
the other boys hastened up they found him crying
and tearing his hair. So violent indeed were his
sobs and his despair that he could hardly be under-
stood as he tried to explain how the books had
given way under Pierre, and how he had vainly
endeavoured to support him in his arms.

This boy, left an orphan at three years old, had
1483

CELEBRATED CRIMES

been brought up at first by a relation who turned
him out for theft; afterwards by two sisters, his
cousins, who were already beginning to take alarm
at his abnormal perversity. This pale and fragile
being, an incorrigible thief, a consummate hypo-
crite, and a cold-blooded assassin, was predestined
to an immortality of crime, and was to find a place
among the most execrable monsters for whom
humanity has ever had to blush; his name was
Antoine-Frangois Derues.

Twenty years had gone by since this horrible
and mysterious event, which no one sought to un-
ravel at the time it occurred. One June evening,
1771, four persons were sitting in one of the rooms
of a modesth^ furnished dwelling on the third floor
of a house in the rue Saint-Victor. The party con-
sisted of three women and an ecclesiastic, who
boarded, for meals only, with the woman who
tenanted the dwelling; the other two were near
neighbours. They were all friends, and often met
thus in the evening to play cards. They were sit-
ting round the card-table, but although it was
nearly ten o'clock the cards had not yet been
touched. They spoke in low tones, and a half-
interrupted confidence had, this evening, put a check
on the usual gaiety.

Someone knocked gently at the door, although
1484

DERUES

no sound of steps on the creaking wooden stair-
case had been heard, and a wheedHng voice asked
for admittance. The occupier of the room,
Madame Legrand, rose, and admitted a man of
about six-and-twenty, at whose appearance the four
friends exchanged glances, at once observed by the
new-comer, who affected, however, not to see them.
He bowed successively to the three women, and
several times with the utmost respect to the abbe,
making signs of apology for the interruption caused
by his appearance; then, coughing several times,
he turned to Madame Legrand, and said in a feeble
voice, which seemed to betoken much suffering —

"My kind mistress, will you and these other
ladies excuse my presenting myself at such an hour
and in such a costume ? I am ill, and I was obliged
to get up."

His costume was certainly singular enough : he
was wrapped in a large dressing-gown of flowered
chintz; his head was adorned by a nightcap drawn
up at the top and surmounted by a muslin frill.
His appearance did not contradict his complaint of
illness; he was barely four feet six in height, his
limbs were bony, his face sharp, thin, and pale.
Thus attired, coughing incessantly, dragging his
feet as if he had no strength to lift them, holding
a lighted candle in one hand and an egg in the
other, he suggested a caricature — some imaginary

1485

CELEBRATED CRIMES

invalid just escaped from M. Purgon. Neverthe-
less, no one ventured to smile, notwithstanding his
valetudinarian appearance and his air of affected
humility. The perpetual blinking of the yellow
eyelids which fell over the round and hollow eyes,
shining with a sombre fire which he could never
entirely suppress, reminded one of a bird of prey
unable to face the light, and the lines of his face,
the hooked nose, and the thin, constantly quivering,
drawn-in lips suggeste<l a mixture of boldness and
baseness, of cunttlug and sincerity. But there is
no book which can instruct one to read the human
countenance correctly; and some special circum-
stance must have roused the suspicions of these
four persons so much as to cause them to make
these observations, and they were not as usual
deceived by the humbug of this skilled actor, a past
master in the art of deception.

He continued after a moment's silence, as if he
did not wish to interrupt their mute observation —

" Will you oblige me by a neighbourly kind-
ness ? "

"What is it, Derues?" asked Madame Legrand.

A violent cough, which appeared to rend his
chest, prevented him from answering immediately.
When it ceased, he looked at the abbe, and said,
with a melancholy smile —

" What I ought to ask in my present state of
i486

DERUES

health is your blessing, my father, and your inter-
cession for the pardon of my sins. But everyone
clings to the life which God has given him. We
do not easily abandon hope; moreover, I have
always considered it wrong to neglect such means
of preserving our lives as are in our power, since
life is for us only a time of trial, and the longer
and harder the trial the greater our recompense in
a better world. Whatever befalls us, our answer
should be that of the Virgin Mary to the angel
who announced the mystery of the Incarnation:
* Behold the handmaid of the Lord ; be it unto me
according to Thy word.' "

" You are right," said the abbe, with a severe
and inquisitorial look, under which Derues re-
mained quite untroubled ; " it is an attribute of God
to reward and to punish, and the Almighty is not
deceived by him who deceives men. The Psalmist
has said, ' Righteous art Thou, O Lord, and upright
are Thy judgments.' "

" He has said also, * The judgments of the Lord
are true and righteous altogether,' " Derues
promptly replied. This exchange of quotations
from Scripture might have lasted for hours w'ithout
his being at a loss, had the abbe thought fit to
continue in this strain; but such a style of conversa-
tion, garnished with grave and solemn words,
seemed almost sacrilegious in the mouth of a man

1487

CELEBRATED CRIMES

of such ridiculous appearance — a profanation at
once sad and grotesque. Derues seemed to com-
prehend the impression it produced, and turning
again to Madame Legrand, he said —

" We have got a long way from what I came to
ask you, my kind friend. I was so ill that I went
early to bed, but I cannot sleep, and I have no fire.
Would you have the kindness to have this egg
mulled for me? "

" Cannot your servant do that for you? " asked
Madame Legrand.

" I gave her leave to go out this evening, and
though it is late she has not yet returned. If I had
a fire, I would not give you so much trouble, but I
do not care to light one at this hour. You know
I am always afraid of accidents, and they so easily
happen ! "

" Very well, then," replied Madame Legrand ;
" go back to your room, and my servant will bring
it to you."

" Thank you," said Derues, bowing, — " many
thanks."

As he turned to depart, Madame Legrand spoke
again.

" This day week, Derues, you have to pay me half
the twelve hundred livres due for the purchase of
my business."

" So soon as that ? "

1488

DERUES

" Certainly, and I want the money. Have you
forgotten the date, then? "

" Oh dear, I have never looked at the agreement
since it vv^as drawn up. I did not think the time
was so near, it is the fault of my bad memory ; but
I will contrive to pay you, although trade is very
bad, and in three days I shall have to pay more than
fifteen thousand livres to different people."

He bowed again and departed, apparently ex-
hausted by the effort of sustaining so long a con-
versation.

As soon as they were alone, the abbe exclaimed —

" That man is assuredly an utter rascal ! May
God forgive him his hypocrisy ! How is it possible
we could allow him to deceive us for so long? "

" But, my father," interposed one of the visitors,
"are you really sure of what you have just
said?"

" I am not now speaking of the seventy-nine louis
d'or which have been stolen from me, although I
never mentioned to anyone but you, and he was
then present, that I possessed such a sum, and
although that very day he made a false excuse for
coming to my rooms when I was out. Theft is
indeed infamous, but slander is not less so, and he
has slandered you disgracefully. Yes, he has
spread a report that you, Madame Legrand, you,
his former mistress and benefactress, have put

1489

CELEBRATED CRIMES

temptation in his way, and desired to commit car-
nal sin with him. This is now whispered in the
neighbourhood all round us, it will soon be said
aloud, and we have been so completely his dupes,
we have helped him so much to acquire a reputation
for uprightness, that it would now be impossible to
destroy our own work; if I were to accuse him of
theft, and you charged him with lying, probably
neither of us would be believed. Beware, these
odious tales have not been spread without a reason.
Now that your eyes are open, beware of him."

" Yes," replied Madame Legrand, " my brother-
in-law warned me three years ago. One day
Derues said to my sister-in-law, — I remember the
words perfectly, — * I should like to be a druggist,
because one would always be able to punish an
enemy; and if one has a quarrel with anyone it
would be easy to get rid of him by means of a
poisoned draught.' I neglected these warnings. I
surmounted the feeling of repugnance I first felt at
the sight of him ; I have responded to his advances,
and I greatly fear I may have cause to repent it.
But you know him as well as I do, who would not
have thought his piety sincere? — who would not
still think so? And notwithstanding all you have
said, I still hesitate to feel serious alarm; I am
unwilling to believe in such utter depravity."

The conversation continued in this strain for
1490

DERUES

some time, and then, as it was getting late, the
party separated.

Next morning early, a large and noisy crowd was
assembled in the rue Saint-Victor before Derues'
shop of drugs and groceries. There was a con-
fusion of cross questions, of inquiries which ob-
tained no answer, of answers not addressed to the
inquiry, a medley of sound, a pell-mell of uncon-
nected words, of affirmations, contradictions, and
interrupted narrations. Here, a group listened to
an orator who held forth in his shirt sleeves, a little
farther there were disputes, quarrels, exclamations
of " Poor man ! " " Such a good fellow ! " " My poor
gossip Derues ! " " Good heavens ! what will he
do now ? " " Alas ! he is quite done for ; it is to
be hoped his creditors will give him time ! " Above
all this uproar was heard a voice, sharp and pier-
cing like a cat's, lamenting, and relating with sobs
the terrible misfortune of last night. At about
three in the morning the inhabitants of the rue St.
Victor had been startled out of their sleep by the
cry of " Fife, fire ! '* A conflagration had burst
forth in Denies' cellar, and though its progress had
been arrested and the house saved from destruction,
all the goods stored therein had perished. It ap-
parently meant a considerable loss in barrels of oil,
casks of brandy, boxes of soap, etc., which Derues
estimated at not less than nine thousand livres.

1491

CELEBRATED CRIMES

By what unlucky chance the fire had been caused he
had no idea. He recounted his visit to Madame
Legrand, and pale, trembling, hardly able to sustain
himself, he cried —

" I shall die of grief ! A poor man as ill as I am!
I am lost! I am ruined! "

A harsh voice interrupted his lamentations, and
drew the attention of the crowd to a woman carry-
ing printed broadsides, and who forced a passage
through the crowd up to the shop door. She un-
folded one of her sheets, and cried as loudly and
distinctly as her husky voice permitted —

" Sentence pronounced by the Parliament of
Paris against John Robert Cassel, accused and con-
victed of Fraudident Bankruptcy! "

Derues looked up and saw a street-hawker who
used to come to his shop for a drink, and with whom
he had had a violent quarrel about a month pre-
viously, she having detected him in a piece of
knavery, and abused him roundly in her own style,
which was not lacking in energy. He had not seen
her since. The crowd generally, and all the gossips
of the quarter, who held Derues in great veneration,
thought that the woman's cry was intended as an
indirect insult, and threatened to punish her for
this irreverence. But, placing one hand on her
hip, and with the other warning ofif the most press-
ing by a significant gesture —

1492

DERUES

" Are you still befooled by his tricks, fools that
you are? Yes, no doubt there was a fire in the
cellar last night, no doubt his creditors will be geese
enough to let him off paying his debts! But what
you don't know is, that he didn't really lose by it
at all!"

" He lost all his goods ! " the crowd cried on all
sides. " More than nine thousand livres ! Oil and
brandy, do you think those won't burn? The old
witch, she drinks enough to know! If one
put a candle near her she would take fire, fast
enough ! "

" Perhaps," replied the woman, with renewed
gesticulations, "perhaps; but I don't advise any of
you to try. Anyhow, this fellow here is a rogue;
he has been emptying his cellar for the last three
nights; there were only old empty casks in it and
empty packing-cases ! Oh yes ! I have swallowed
his daily lies like everybody else, but I know the
truth by now. He got his liquor taken away by
Michael Lambourne's son, the cobbler in the rue de
la Parcheminerie. How do I know? Why, be-
cause the young man came and told me ! "

"I turned that woman out of my shop a month
ago, for stealing," said Derues.

Notwithstanding this retaliatory accusation, the
woman's bold assertion might have changed the
attitude of the crowd and chilled the enthusiasm,

1493

CELEBRATED CRIMES

but at that moment a stout man pressed forward,
and seizing the hawker by the arm, said —

" Go, and hold your tongue, backbiting woman ! "

To this man, the honour of Derues was an article
of faith; he had not yet ceased to wonder at the
probity of this sainted person, and to doubt it in the
least was as good as suspecting his own.

" My dear friend," he said, " we all know what
to think of you. I know you well. Send to me to-
morrow, and you shall have what goods you want,
on credit, for as long as is necessary. Now, evil
tongue, what do you say to that? "

" I say that you are as great a fool as the rest.
Adieu, friend Derues; go on as you have begun,
and I shall be selling your * sentence ' some day " ;
and dispersing the crowd with a few twirls of her
right arm, she passed on, crying —

" Sentence pronounced by the Parliament of
Paris against John Robert Cassel, accused and con-
victed of Fraudulent Bankruptcy! "

This accusation emanated from too insignificant a
quarter to have any effect on Derues' reputation.
However resentful he may have been at the time,
he got over it in consequence of the reiterated marks
of interest shown by his neighbours and all the
quarter on account of his supposed ruin, and the
hawker's attack passed out of his mind, or probably
she might have paid for her boldness with her life.

1494

DERUES

But this drunken woman had none the less uttered
a prophetic word; it was the grain of sand on
which, later, he was to be shipwrecked.

" All passions," says La Bruyere, — " all passions
are deceitful; they disguise themselves as much as
possible from the public eye ; they hide from them-
selves. There is no vice which has not a counter-
feit resemblance to some virtue, and which does
not profit by it."

The whole life of Derues bears testimony to the
truth of this observation. An avaricious poisoner,
he attracted his victims by the pretence of fervent
and devoted piety, and drew them into the snare
where he silently destroyed them. His terrible
celebrity only began in 1777, caused by the double
murder of Madame de Lamotte and her son, and
his name, unlike those of some other great crimi-
nals, does not at first recall a long series of crimes,
but when one examines this low, crooked, and
obscure life, one finds a fresh stain at every step,
and perhaps no one has ever surpassed him in dis-
simulation, in profound hypocrisy, in indefatigable
depravity. Derues was executed at thirty-two, and
his whole life was steeped in vice; though happily
so short, it is full of horror, and is only a tissue of
criminal thoughts and deeds, a very essence of evil.
He had no hesitation, no remorse, no repose, no
relaxation; he seemed compelled to lie, to steal, to

1495

CELEBRATED CRIMES

poison ! Occasionally suspicion is aroused, the
public has its doubts, and vague rumours hover
round him; but he burrows under new impostures,
and punishment passes by. Wheri he falls into the
hands of human justice his reputation protects him,
and for a few days more the legal sword is turned
aside. Hypocrisy is so completely a part of his
nature, that even when there is no longer any hope,
when he is irrevocably sentenced, and he knows
that he can no longer deceive anyone, neither man-
kind nor Him whose name he profanes by this last
sacrilege, he yet exclaims, " 0 Christ! I shall suffer
even as Thou." It is only by the light of his funeral
pyre that the dark places of his life can be examined,
that this bloody plot is unravelled, and that other
victims, forgotten and lost in the shadows, arise
like spectres at the foot of the scaffold, and escort
the assassin to his doom.

Let us trace rapidly the history of Derues' early
years, effaced and forgotten in the notoriety of his
death. These few pages are not written for the
glorification of crime, and if in our own days, as a
result of the corruption of our manners, and of a
deplorable confusion of all notions of right and
wrong, it has been sought to make him an object
of public interest, we, on our part, only wish to bring
him into notice, and place him momentarily on a
pedestal, in order to cast him still lower, that his

1496

DERUES

fall may be yet greater. What has been permitted
by God may be related by man. Decaying and
satiated communities need not be treated as chil-
dren; they require neither diplomatic handling nor
precaution, and it may be good that they should
see and touch the putrescent sores which canker
them. Why fear to mention that which everyone
knows? Why dread to sound the abyss which can
be measured by everyone? Why fear to bring into
the light of day unmasked wickedness, even though
it confronts the public gaze unblushingly ? Ex-
treme turpitude and extreme excellence are both
in the schemes of Providence; and the poet has
summed up eternal morality for all ages and nations
in this sublime exclamation —

" AbstuHt hunc tandem Rufini poena tumultum."

Besides, and we cannot insist too earnestly that
our intention must not be mistaken, if we had
wished to inspire any other sentiment than that of
horror, we should have chosen a more imposing
personage from the annals of crime. There have
been deeds which required audacity, a sort of
grandeur, a false heroism; there have been crimi-
nals who held in check all the regular and legitimate
forces of society, and whom one regarded with a
mixture of terror and pity. There is nothing of

1497

CEtEERATED CRIMES

that in Denies, not even a trace of courage ; nothing
but a shameless cupidity, exercising itself at first
in the theft of a few pence filched from the poor;
nothing but the illicit gains and rascalities of a
cheating shopkeeper and vile money-lender, a de-
praved cowardice which dared not strike openly,
but slew in the dark. It is the story of an unclean
reptile which drags itself underground, leaving
everywhere the trail of its poisonous saliva.

Such was the man whose life we have undertaken
to narrate, a man who represents a complete type of
wickedness, and who corresponds to the most hide-
ous sketch ever devised by poet or romance-writer.
Facts without importance of their own, which
would be childish if recorded of anyone else, obtain
a sombre reflection from other facts which precede
them, and thenceforth cannot be passed over in
silence. The historian is obliged to collect and note
them, as showing the logical development of this
degraded being: he unites them in sequence, and
counts the successive steps of the ladder mounted
by the criminal.

We have seen the early exploit of this assassin
by instinct; we find him, twenty years later, an
incendiary and a fraudulent bankrupt. What had
happened in the interval? With how much treach-
ery and crime had he filled this space of twenty
years? Let us return to his infancy.
1498

DERUES

His unconquerable taste for theft caused him to
be expelled by the relations who had taken charge
of him. An anecdote is told which shows his
impudence and incurable perversity. One day he
was caught taking some money, and was soundly
whipped by his cousins. When this was over, the
child, instead of showing any sorrow or asking
forgiveness, ran away with a sneer, and seeing
they were out of breath, exclaimed —

" You are tired, are you ? Well, I am not ! "

Despairing of any control over this evil disposi-
tion, the relations refused to keep him, and sent
him to Chartres, where two other cousins agreed
to have him, out of charity. They were simple-
minded women, of great and sincere piety, who
imagined that good example and religious teaching
might have a happy influence on their young rela-
tion. The result was contrary to their expectation :
the sole fruit of their teaching was that Derues
learnt to be a cheat and a hypocrite, and to assume
the mask of respectability.

Here also repeated thefts insured him sound cor-
rections. Knowing his cousins' extreme economy,
not to say avarice, he mocked them when they broke
a lath over his shoulders : " There now, I am so
glad ; that will cost you two farthings ! "

His benefactresses' patience becoming exhausted,
he left their house, and was apprenticed to a tin-

1499

CELEBRATED CRIMES

man at Chartres. His master died, and an iron-
monger of the same town took him as shopboy,
and from this he passed on to a druggist and
grocer. Until now, although fifteen years old, he
had shown no preference for one trade more than
another, but it was now necessary he should choose
some profession, and his share in the family prop-
erty amounted to the modest sum of three thousand
five hundred livres. His residence with this last
master revealed a decided taste, but it was only
another evil instinct developing itself: the poisoner
had scented poison, being always surrounded with
drugs which were health -giving or hurtful, accord-
ing to the use made of them. Derues would prob-
ably have settled at Chartres, but repeated thefts
obliged him to leave the town. The profession of
druggist and grocer being one which presented most
chances of fortune, and being, moreover, adapted
to his tastes, his family apprenticed him to a grocer
in the rue Comtesse d'Artois, paying a specified
premium for him.

Derues arrived in Paris in 1760. It was a new
horizon, where he was unknown; no suspicion
attached to him, and he felt much at his ease. Lost
in the noise and the crowd of this immense recep-
tacle for every vice, he had time to found on hypoc-
risy his reputation as an honest man. When his
apprenticeship expired, his master proposed to
1500

DERUES

place him with his sister-in-law, who kept a similar
establishment in the rue St. Victor, and who had
been a widow for several years. He recommended
Derues as a young man whose zeal and intelligence
might be useful in her business, being ignorant of
various embezzlements committed by his late
apprentice, who was always clever enough to cast
suspicion on others. But the negotiation nearly fell
through, because, one day, Derues so far forgot his
usual prudence and dissimulation as to allow him-
self to make the observation recorded above to his
mistress. She, horrified, ordered him to be silent,
and threatened to ask her husband to dismiss him.
It required a double amount of hypocrisy to remove
this unfavourable impression; but he spared no
pains to obtain the confidence of the sister-in-law,
who was much influenced in his favour. Every
day he inquired what could be done for her, every
evening he took a basket-load of the goods she
required from the rue Comtesse d'Artois; and it
excited the pity of all beholders to see this weakly
young man, panting and sweating under his heavy
burden, refusing any reward, and labouring merely
for the pleasure of obliging, and from natural kind-
ness of heart! The poor widow, whose spoils he
was already coveting, was completely duped. She
rejected the advice of her brother-in-law, and only
listened to the concert of praises sung by neigh-

1501

CELEBRATED CRIMES

boLirs much edified by Derues' conduct, and touched
by the interest he appeared to show her. Often he
found occasion to speak of her, ahvays with the
hvehest expressions of boundless devotion. These
remarks were repeated to the good woman, and
seemed all the more sincere to her as they appeared
to have been made quite casually, and she never
suspected they were carefully calculated and
thought out long before.

Derues carried dishonesty as far as possible, but
he knew how to stop when suspicion was likely to
be aroused, and though always planning either to
deceive or to hurt, he was never taken by surprise.
Like the spider which spreads the threads of her
web all round her, he concealed himself in a net
of falsehood which one had to traverse before
arriving at his real nature. The evil destiny of
this poor woman, mother of four children, caused
her to engage him as her shopman in the year 1767,
thereby signing the warrant for her own ruin.

Derues began life under his new mistress with
a master-stroke. His exemplary piety was the talk
of the whole quarter, and his first care had been to
request Madame Legrand to recommend him a
confessor. She sent him to the director of her late
husband, Pere Cartault, of the Carmelite order,
who, astonished at the devotion of his penitent,
never failed, if he passed the shop, to enter and
1502

DERUES

congratulate Madame Legrand on the excellent
acquisition she had made in securing this young
man, who would certainly bring her a blessing
along with him. Derues affected the greatest
modesty, and blushed at these praises, and often,
when he saw the good father approaching, appeared
not to see him, and found something to do else-
where; whereby the field was left clear for his too
credulous panegyrists.

But Pere Cartault appeared too indulgent, and
Derues feared that his sins were too easily par-
doned ; and he dared not find peace in an absolution
which was never refused. Therefore, before the
year was out, he chose a second confessor, Pere
Denys, a Franciscan, consulting both alternately,
and • confiding his conscientious scruples to them.
Every penance appeared too easy, and he added to
those enjoined by his directors continual mortifica-
tions of his own devising, so that even Tartufe him-
self would have owned his superiority.

He wore about him two shrouds, to which were
fastened relics of Madame de Chantal, also a medal
of St. Francois de Sales, and occasionally scourged
himself. His mistress related that he had begged
her to take a sitting at the church of St. Nicholas,
in order that he might more easily attend service
when he had a day out, and had brought her a small
sum which he had saved, to pay half the expense.

1503

CELEBRATED CRIMES

Moreover, he had slept upon straw during the
whole of Lent, and took care that Madame Legrand
heard of this through the servant, pretending at
first to hide it as if it were something wrong. He
tried to prevent the maid from going into his
room, and when she found out the straw he forbade
her to mention it — which naturally made her more
anxious to relate her discovery. Such a piece of
piety, combined with such meritorious humility,
such dread of publicity, could only increase the
excellent opinion which everyone already had of
him.

Every day was marked by some fresh hypocrisy.
One of his sisters, a novice in the convent of the
Ladies of the Visitation of the Virgin, was to take
the veil at Easter. Derues obtained permission to
be present at the ceremony, and was to start on foot
on Good Friday. When he departed, the shop hap-
pened to be full of people, and the gossips of the
neighbourhood inquired where he was going,
Madame Legrand desired him to have a glass of
liqueur (wine he never touched) and something to
eat before starting.

" Oh, madame ! " he exclaimed, " do you think I
could eat on a day like this, the day on which Christ
was crucified ! I will take a piece of bread with
me, but I shall only eat it at the inn where I intend
to sleep: I mean to fast the whole way."

1504

DERUES

But this kind of thing was not sufficient. He
wanted an opportunity to estabHsh a reputation for
honesty on a firm basis. Chance provided one, and
he seized it immediately, although at the expense
of a member of his own family.

One of his brothers, who kept a public-house at
Chartres, came to see him. Derues, under pretence
of showing him the sights of Paris, which he did
not know, asked his mistress to allow him to take
in the brother for a few days, which she granted.
The last evening of his stay, Derues went up to his
room, broke open the box which contained his
clothes, turned over everything it contained, exam-
ined the clothes, and discovering two new cotton
nightcaps, raised a cry which brought up the house-
hold". His brother just then returned, and Derues
called him an infamous thief, declaring that he had
stolen the money for these new articles out of the
shop the evening before. His brother defended
himself, protesting his innocence, and, indignant at
such incomprehensible treachery, endeavoured to
turn the tables by relating some of Antoine's early
misdeeds. The latter, however, stopped him, by
declaring on his honour that he had seen his brother
the evening before go to the till, slip his hand in,
and take out some money. The brother was con-
founded and silenced by so audacious a He; he
hesitated, stammered, and was turned out of the

1505

Dumas — ^Vol. 5 — B

CELEBRATED CRIMES

house. Derues worthily crowned this piece of
iniquity by obliging his mistress to accept the resti-
tution of the stolen money. It cost him three livres,
twelve sous, but the interest it brought him was the
power of stealing unsuspected. That evening he
spent in prayer for the pardon of his brother's
supposed guilt.

All these schemes had succeeded, and brought
him nearer to the desired goal, for not a soul in the
quarter ventured to doubt the word of this saintly
individual. His fawning manners and insinuating
language varied according to the people addressed.
He adapted himself to all, contradicting no one,
and, while austere himself, he flattered the tastes of
others. In the various houses where he visited his
conversation was serious, grave, and sententious;
and, as we have seen, he could quote Scripture with
the readiness of a theologian. In the shop, when
he had to deal with the lower classes, he showed
himself acquainted with their modes of expression,
and spoke the Billingsgate of the market-women,
which he had acquired in the rue Comtesse d'Artois,
treating them familiarly, and they generally ad-
dressed him as " gossip Derues." By his own
account he easily judged the characters of the
various people with whom he came in contact.

However, Pere Cartault's prophecy was not ful-
filled: the blessing of Heaven did not descend on

1506

DERUES

the Legrand establishment. There seemed to be a
succession of misfortunes which all Derues' izeal
and care as shopman could neither prevent nor
repair. He by no means contented himself with
parading an idle and fruitless hypocrisy, and his
most abominable deceptions were not those dis-
played in the light of day. He watched by night:
his singular organisation, outside the ordinary laws
of nature, appeared able to dispense with sleep.
Gliding about on tiptoe, opening doors noiselessly,
with all the skill of an accomplished thief, he pil-
laged shop and cellar, and sold his plunder in re-
mote parts of the town under assumed names. It
is difficult to understand how his strength supported
the fatigue of this double existence; he had barely
arrived at puberty, and art had been obliged to
assist the retarded development of nature. But he
lived only for evil, and the Spirit of Evil supplied
the physical vigour which was wanting. An insane
love of money (the only passion he knew) brought
him by degrees back to his starting-point of crime;
he concealed it in hiding-places wrought in the thick
walls, in holes dug out by his nails. As soon as he
got any, he brought it exactly as a wild beast brings
a piece of bleeding flesh to his lair; and often, by
the glimmer of a dark lantern, kneeling in adoration
before this shameful idol, his eyes sparkling with
ferocious joy, with a smile which suggested a

1507

CELEBRATED CRIMES

hyena's delight over its pre}^, he would contemplate
his money, counting and kissing it.

These continual thefts brought trouble into the
Legrand affairs, cancelled all profits, and slowly
brought on ruin. The widow had no suspicion of
Derues' disgraceful dealings, and he carefully
referred the damage to other causes, quite worthy
of himself. Sometimes it was a bottle of oil, or
of brandy, or some other commodity, which was
found spilt, broken, or damaged, which accidents
he attributed to the enormous quantity of rats
which infested the cellar and the house. At length,
unable to meet her engagements, Madame Legrand
made the business over to him in February, 1770.
He was then twenty-five years and six months old,
and was accepted as a merchant grocer in August
the same year. By an agreement drawn up between
them, Derues undertook to pay twelve hundred
livres for the goodwill, and to lodge her rent free
during the remainder of her lease, which had still
nine years to run. Being thus obliged to give up
business to escape bankruptcy, Madame Legrand
surrendered to her creditors any goods remaining
in her warehouse ; and Derues easily made arrange-
ments to take them over very cheaply. The first
step thus made, he was now able to enrich himself
safely and to defraud with impunity under the
cover of his stolen reputation.

1508

DERUES

One of his uncles, a flour merchant at Chartres,
came habitually twice a year to Paris to settle
accounts with his correspondents. A sum of twelve
hundred francs, locked up in a drawer, was stolen
from him, and, accompanied by his nephew, he
went to inform the police. On investigation being
made, it was found that the chest of drawers had
been broken at the top. As at the time of the
theft of the seventy-nine louis from the abbe,
Derues was the only person known to have entered
his uncle's room. The innkeeper swore to this, but
the uncle took pains to justify his nephew, and
showed his confidence shortly after by becoming
surety for him to the extent of five thousand livres.
Derues failed to pay when the time expired, and
the holder of the note was obliged to sue the surety
for it.

He made use of any means, even the most impu-
dent, which enabled him to appropriate other
people's property. A provincial grocer on one
occasion sent him a thousandweight of honey in
barrels to be sold on commission. Two or three
months passed, and he asked for an account of the
sale. Derues replied that he had not yet been able
to dispose of it advantageously, and there ensued a
fresh delay, followed by the same question and
the same reply. At length, when more than a
year had passed, the grocer came to Paris, exam-

1509

CELEBRATED CRIMES

incd his barrels, and found that five hundred
pounds were missing. He claimed damages from
Derues, who declared he had never received any
more, and as the honey had been sent in confidence,
and there was no contract and no receipt to show,
the provincial tradesman could not obtain com-
pensation.

As though having risen by the ruin of Madame
Legrand and her four children was not enough,
Derues grudged even the morsel of bread he had
been obliged to leave her. A few days after the
fire in the cellar, which enabled him to go through
a second bankruptcy, Madame Legrand, now
undeceived and not believing his lamentations,
demanded the money due to her, according to their
agreement. Derues pretended to look for his copy
of the contract, and could not find it. " Give me
yours, madame," said he ; " we will write the receipt
upon it. Here is the money."

The widow opened her purse and took out her
copy; Derues snatched it, and tore it up. " Now,"
he exclaimed, " you are paid ; I owe you nothing
now. If you like, I will declare it on oath in court,
and no one will disbelieve my word."

" Wretched man," said the unfortunate widow,
" may God forgive your soul ; but your body will
assuredly end on the gallows ! "

It was in vain that she complained, and told of
1510

DERUES

this abominable swindle; Derues had been before-
hand with her, and the slander he had dissem-
inated bore its fruits. It was said that his old mis-
tress was endeavouring by an odious falsehood to
destroy the reputation of a man who had refused
to be her lover. Although reduced to poverty, she
left the house where she had a right to remain rent
free, preferring the hardest and dreariest life to
the torture of remaining under the same roof with
the man who had caused her ruin.

We might relate a hundred other pieces of knav-
ery, but it must not be supposed that having begun
by murder, Derues would draw back and remain
contented with theft. Two fraudulent bankruptcies
would have sufficed for most people; for him they
were merely a harmless pastime. Here we must
place two dark and obscure stories, two crimes of
which he is accused, two victims whose death-
groans no one heard.

The hypocrite's excellent reputation had crossed
the Parisian bounds. A young man from the coun-
try, intending to start as a grocer in the capital,
applied to Derues for the necessary information
and begged for advice. He arrived at the latter's
house with a sum of eight thousand livres, which
he placed in Derues' hands, asking him for assist-
ance in finding a business. The sight of gold was
enough to rouse the instinct of crime in Derues,

1511

CELEBRATED CRIMES

and the witches who hailed Macbeth with the prom-
ise of royalty did not rouse the latter's ambitious
desires to a greater height than the chance of wealth
did the greed of the assassin; whose hands, once
closed over the eight thousand livres, were never
again relaxed. He received them as a deposit, and
hid them along with his previous plunder, vowing
never to return them. Several days had elapsed,
when one afternoon Derues returned home with an
air of such unusual cheerfulness that the young man
questioned him. " Have you heard some good
news for me? " he asked, " or have you had some
luck yourself? "

" My young friend," answered Derues, " as for
me, success depends on my own efforts, and fortune
smiles on me. But I have promised to be useful
to you, your parents have trusted me, and I must
prove that their confidence is well founded. I have
heard to-day of a business for disposal in one
of the best parts of Paris. You can have it for
twelve thousand livres, and I wish I could lend
you the amount you want. But you must write
to your father, persuade him, reason with him;
do not lose so good a chance. He must make
a little sacrifice, and he will be grateful to me
later."

In accordance with their son's request, the young
man's parents despatched a sum of four thousand

1512

DERUES

livres, requesting Derues to lose no time in con-
cluding the purchase.

Three weeks later, the father, very uneasy, ar-
rived in Paris. He came to inquire about his son,
having heard nothing from him. Derues received
him with the utmost astonishment, appearing con-
vinced that the young man had returned home.
One day, he said, the youth informed him that he
had heard from his father, who had given up all
idea of establishing him in Paris, having arranged
an advantageous marriage for him near home ; and
he had taken his twelve thousand livres, for which
Derues produced a receipt, and started on his return
journey.

One evening, when nearly dark, Derues had gone
out with his guest, who complained of headache
and internal pains. Where did they go? No one
knew ; but Derues only returned at daybreak, alone,
weary and exhausted, and the young man was
never again heard of.

One of his apprentices was the constant object
of reproof. The boy was accused of negligence,
wasting his time, of spending three hours over a
task which might have been done in less than one.
When Derues had convinced the father, a Parisian
bourgeois, that his son was a bad boy and a good-
for-nothing, he came to this man one day in a state
of wild excitement.

1513

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" Your son," he said, " ran away yesterday with
six hundred livres, with which I had to meet a bill
to-day. He knew where I kept this money, and
has taken it."

He threatened to go before a magistrate and de-
nounce the thief, and was only appeased by being
paid the sum he claimed to have lost. But he had
gone out with the lad the evening before, and re-
turned alone in the early hours of the morning.

However, the veil which concealed the truth was
becoming more and more transparent every day.
Three bankruptcies had diminished the considera-
tion he enjoyed, and people began to listen to com-
plaints and accusations which till now had been
considered mere inventions designed to injure him.
Another attempt at trickery made him feel it desir-
able to leave the neighbourhood.

He had rented a house close to his own, the shop
of which had been tenanted for seven or eight years
by a wine merchant. He required from this man,
if he wished to remain w'here he was, a sum of six
hundred livres as a payment for goodwill. Al-
though the wine merchant considered it an exorbi-
tant charge, yet on reflection he decided to pay it
rather than go, having established a good business
on these premises, as was well known. Before
long a still more arrant piece of dishonesty gave
him an opportunity for revenge. .A young man of

1514

DERUES

good family, who was boarding with him in order
to gain some business experience, having gone into
Derues' shop to make some purchases, amused him-
self while waiting by idly writing his name on a
piece of blank paper lying on the counter; which
he left there without thinking more about it. De-
rues, knowing the young man had means, as soon
as he had gone, converted the signed paper into a
promissory note for two thousand livres, to his or-
der, payable at the majority of the signer. The bill,
negotiated in trade, arrived when due at the wine
m.erchant's, who, much surprised, called his young
boarder and showed him the paper adorned with
his signature. The youth was utterly confounded,
having no knowledge of the bill whatever, but
nevertheless could not deny his signature. On ex-
amining the paper carefully, the handwriting was
recognised as Derues'. The wine merchant sent
for him, and when he arrived, made him enter a
room, and having locked the door, produced the
promissory note. Derues acknowledged having
written it, and tried various falsehoods to excuse
himself. No one listened to him, and the merchant
threatened to place the matter in the hands of the
police. Then Derues wept, implored, fell on his
knees, acknowledged his guilt, and begged for
mercy. He agreed to restore the six hundred livres
exacted from the wine merchant, on condition that

1515

CELEBRATED CRIMES

he should see the note destroyed and that the matter
should end there. He was then about to be married,
and dreaded a scandal.

Shortly after, he married Marie-Louise Nicolais,
daughter of a harness-maker at Melun.

One's first impression in considering this mar-
riage is one of profound sorrow and utmost pity for
the young girl whose destiny was linked with that
of this monster. One thinks of the horrible future;
of youth and innocence blighted by the tainting
breath of the homicide; of candour united to hypoc-
risy; of virtue to wickedness; of legitimate desires
linked to disgraceful passions; of purity mixed
with corruption. The thought of these contrasts
is revolting, and one pities such a dreadful fate.
But we must not decide hastily. Madame Derues
has not been convicted of any active part in her hus-
band's later crimes, but her history, combined with
his, shows no trace of suffering, nor of any revolt
against a terrible complicity. In her case the evi-
dence is doubtful, and public opinion must decide
later.

In 1773, Derues rehnquished retail business, and
left the Saint Victor neighbourhood, having taken
an apartment in the rue des Deux Boules, near the
rue Bertin-Poiree, in the parish of St. Germain
I'Auxerrois, where he had been married. He first
acted on commission for the Benedi'ctine-Camaldul-

1516

DERUES

ian fathers of the forest of Senart, who had heard
of him as a man wholly given to piety ; then, giving
himself up to usury, he undertook what is known
as " business affairs," a profession which, in such
hands, could not fail to be lucrative, being aided by
his exemplary morals and honest appearance. It
was the more easy for him to impose on others,
as he could not be accused of any of the deadly
vices which so often end in ruin — gaming, wine,
and women. Until now he had displayed only one
passion, that of avarice, but now another developed
itself, that of ambition. He bought houses and
land, and when the money was due, allowed himself
to be sued for it; he bought even lawsuits, which
he muddled with all the skill of a rascally attorney.
Experienced in bankruptcy, he undertook the man-
agement of failures, contriving to make dishonesty
appear in the light of unfortunate virtue. When
this demon was not occupied with poison, his hands
were busy with every social iniquity; he could
only live and breathe in an atmosphere of cor-
ruption.

His wife, who had already presented him with a
daughter, gave birth to a son in February 1774.
Derues, in order to better support the airs of grand-
eur and the territorial title which he had assumed,
invited persons of distinction to act as sponsors.
The child was baptized Tuesday, February 15th,

IS^7

CELEBRATED CRIMES

We give the text of the baptismal register, as a
curiosity : —

" Antoine-Maximilian- Joseph, son of Antoine-
Frangois Derues, gentleman, seigneur of Gendeville,
Herchies, Viquemont, and other places, formerly
merchant grocer; and of Madame Marie-Louise
Nicolais, his wife. Godfathers, T, H. and T. P.,
lords of, etc. etc. Godmothers, Madame M. Fr.
C. D. v., etc. etc.

(Signed) A. F. Derues,, Senior."

But all this dignity did not exclude the sheriff's
officers, whom, as befitted so great a man, he treated
with the utmost insolence, overwhelming them with
abuse when they came to enforce an execution.
Such scandals had several times aroused the curi-
osity of his neighbours, and did not redound to his
credit. His landlord, wearied of all this clamour,
and most especially weary of never getting any rent
without a fight for it, gave him notice to quit. De-
rues removed to the rue Beaubourg, where he con-
tinued to act as commission agent under the name
of Cyrano Derues de Bury.

And now we wnll concern ourselves no more with

the unravelling of this tissue of imposition; we will

wander no longer in this labyrinth of fraud, of low

and vile intrigue, of dark crime of which the clue

1518

DERUES

disappears in the night, and of which the trace
is lost in a doubtful mixture of blood and mire ; we
will listen no longer to the cry of the widow and
her four children reduced to beggary, to the groans
of obscure victims, to the cries of terror and the
death-groan which echoed one night through the
vaults of a country house near Beauvais. Behold
other victims whose cries are yet louder, behold
yet other crimes and a punishment which equals
them in terror! Let these nameless ghosts, these
silent spectres, lose themselves in the clear daylight
which now appears, and make room for other
phantoms which rend their shrouds and issue from
the tomb demanding vengeance.

Derues was now soon to have a chance of ob-
taining immortality. Hitherto his blows had been
struck by chance, henceforth he uses all the re-
sources of his infernal imagination; he concentrates
all his strength on one point — conceives and exe-
cutes his crowning piece of wickedness. He em-
ploys for two years all his science as cheat, forger,
and poisoner in extending the net which was to
entangle a whole family; and, taken in his own
snare, he struggles in vain ; in vain does he seek to
gnaw through the meshes which confine him. The
foot placed on the last rung of this ladder of crime,
stands also on the first step by which he mounts the
scaffold.

1519

CELEBRATED CRIMES

About a mile from Villeneuve-le-Roi-les-Sens,
there stood in 1775 a handsome house, overlooking
the windings of the Yonne on one side, and on the
other a garden and park belonging to the estate of
Buisson-Souef. It was a large property, admirably
situated, and containing productive fields, wood, and
water; but not everywhere kept in good order, and
showing something of the embarrassed fortune of
its owner. During some years the only repairs had
been those necessary in the house itself and its
immediate vicinity. Here and there pieces of dilap-
idated wall threatened to fall altogether, and enor-
mous stems of ivy had invaded and stifled vigorous
trees; in the remoter portions of the park briers
barred the road and made walking almost impos-
sible. This disorder was not destitute of charm, and
at an epoch when landscape gardening consisted
chiefly in straight alleys, and in giving to nature
a cold and monotonous symmetry, one's eye rested
with pleasure on these neglected clumps, on these
waters which had taken a different course to that
which art had assigned to them, on these unex-
pected and picturesque scenes.

A wide terrace, overlooking the winding river,
extended along the front of the house. Three men
were walking on it — two priests, and the owner
of Buisson-Souef, Monsieur de Saint-Faust de La-
motte. One priest was the cure of Villeneuve-le-
1520

DERUES

Roi-lez-Sens, the other was a Camaldulian monk,
who had come to see the cure about a clerical mat-
ter, and who was spending some days at the pres-
bytery. The conversation did not appear to be
lively. Every now and then Monsieur de Lamotte
stood still, and, shading his eyes with his hand from
the brilliant sunlight which flooded the plain, and
was strongly reflected from the water, endeavoured
to see if some new object had not appeared on the
horizon, then slowly resumed his walk with a move-
ment of uneasy impatience. The tower clock struck
with a noisy resonance.

" Six o'clock already ! " he exclaimed. " They
will assuredly not arrive to-day."

" Why despair? " said the cure. " Your servant
has gone to meet them ; we might see their boat any
moment."

" But, my father," returned Monsieur de La-
motte, " the long days are already past. In another
hour the mist will rise, and then they would not
venture on the river."

" Well, if that happens, we shall have to be pa-
tient ; they will stay all night at some little distance,
and you will see them to-morrow morning."

" My brother is right," said the other priest.
" Come, monsieur ; do not be anxious."

" You both speak with the indifference of per-
sons to whom family troubles are unknown."

1521

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" What ! " said the cure, " do you really think
that because our sacred profession condemns us
both to celibacy, we are therefore unable to compre-
hend an affection such as yours, on which I myself
pronounced the hallowing benediction of the Church
— if you remember — nearly fifteen years ago? "

" Is it perhaps intentionally, my father, that you
recall the date of my marriage? I readily admit
that the love of one's neighbour may enlighten you
as to another love to which you have yourself been
a stranger. I daresay it seems odd to you that a
man of my age should be anxious about so little, as
though he were a love-sick youth; but for some
time past I have had presentiments of evil, and I
am really becoming superstitious ! "

He again stood still, gazing up the river, and,
seeing nothing, resumed his place between the two
priests, who had continued their walk.

"Yes," he continued, "I have presentiments which
refuse to be shaken off. I am not so old that age
can have weakened my powers and reduced me to
childishness, I cannot even say what I am afraid
of, but separation is painful and causes an involun-
tary terror. Strange, is it not? Formerly, I used
to leave my wife for months together, when she
was young and my son only an infant ; I loved her
passionately, yet I could go with pleasure. Why, I
wonder, is it so different now? Why should a

1522

DERUES

Journey to Paris on business, and a few hours*
delay, make me so terribly uneasy ? Do you remem-
ber, my father," he resumed, after a pause, turn-
ing to the cure, — " do you remember how lovely
Marie looked on our wedding-day ? Do you remem-
ber her dazzling complexion and the innocent can-
dour of her expression? — the sure token of the
most truthful and purest of minds! That is why
I love her so much now; we do not now sigh for
one another, but the second love is stronger than
the first, for it is founded on recollection, and is
tranquil and confident in friendship. ... It is
strange that they have not returned ; something must
have happened! If they do not return this evening,
and I do not now think it possible, I shall go to
Paris myself to-morrow."

" I think," said the other priest, " that at twenty
you must indeed have been excitable, a veritable
tinder-box, to have retained so much energy!
Come, monsieur, try to calm yourself and have
patience: you yourself admit it can only be a few
hours' delay."

" But my son accompanied his mother, and he is
our only one, and so delicate! He alone remains
of our three children, and you do not realise how
the affection of parents who feel age approaching
is concentrated on an only child! If I lost Edouard
I should die!"

1523

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" I suppose, then, as you let him go, his presence
at Paris was necessary? "

"No; his mother went to obtain a loan which
is needed for the improvements required on the
estate."

"Why, then, did you let him go?"

"I would willingly have kept him here, but his
mother wished to take him. A separation is as try-
ing to her as to me, and we ^11 but quarrelled over
it. I gave way."

" There was one way of satisfying all three — you
might have gone also."

" Yes, but Monsieur le cure will tell you that a
fortnight ago I was chained to my arm-chair,
swearing under my breath like a pagan, and cursing
the follies of my youth! — Forgive me, my father;
I mean that I had the gout, and I forgot that I am
not the only sufferer, and that it racks the old age
of the philosopher quite as much as that of the
courtier."

The fresh wind which often rises just at sunset
was already rustling in the leaves; long shadows
darkened the course of the Yonne and stretched
across the plain ; the water, slightly troubled, re-
flected a confused outline of its banks and the
clouded blue of the sky. The three gentlemen
stopped at the end of the terrace and gazed into the
already fading distance. A black spot, which they

1524

DERUES

had just observed in the middle of the river, caught
a gleam of light in passing a low meadow between
two hills, and for a moment took shape as a barge,
then was lost again, and could not be distinguished
from the water. Another moment, and it reap-
peared more distinctly; it was indeed a barge, and
now the horse could be seen towing it against the
current. Again it was lost at a bend of the river
shaded by willows, and they had to resign them-
selves to incertitude for several minutes. Then a
white handkerchief was waved on the prow of the
boat, and Monsieur de Lamotte uttered a joyful
exclamation.

"It is indeed they!" he cried. "Do you see
them, Monsieur le cure ? I see my boy ; he is wav-
ing the handkerchief, and his mother is with him.
But I think there is a third person — yes, there is a
man, is there not? Look well."

" Indeed," said the cure, " if my bad sight does
not deceive me, I should say there was some-
one seated near the rudder; but it looks like a
child."

" Probably someone from the neighbourhood,
who has profited by the chance of a lift home."

The boat was advancing rapidly ; they could now
hear the cracking of the whip with which the ser-
vant urged on the tow-horse. And now it stopped,
at an easy landing-place, barely fifty paces from

1525

CELEBRATED CRIMES

the terrace. Madame de Lamotte landed with her
son and the stranger, and her husband descended
from the terrace to meet her. Long before he
arrived at the garden gate, his son's arms were
around his neck.

" Are you quite well, Edouard ? "

" Oh yes, perfectly."

" And your mother? "

" Quite well too. She is behind, in as great a
hurry to meet you as I am. But she can't run as I
do, and you must go half-way."

" Whom have you brought with you ? "

" A gentleman from Paris."

" From Paris ? "

" Yes, a Monsieur Derues. But mamma will tell
you all about that. Here she is."

The cure and the monk arrived just as Monsieur
de Lamotte folded his wife in his arms. Although
she had passed her fortieth year, she was still beau-
tiful enough to justify her husband's eulogism. A
moderate plumpness had preserved the freshness
and softness of her skin; her smile was charming,
and her large blue eyes expressed both gentleness and
goodness. Seen beside this smiling and serene
countenance, the appearance of the stranger was
downright repulsive, and Monsieur de Lamotte
could hardly repress a start of disagreeable sur-
prise at the pitiful and sordid aspect of this diminu-

1526

DERUES

tive person, who stood apart, looking overwhelmed
by conscious inferiority. He was still more aston-
ished when he saw his son take him by the hand
with friendly kindness, and heard him say —

" Will you come with me, my friend ? We will
follow my father and mother."

Madame de Lamotte, having greeted the cure,
looked at the monk, who was a stranger to her, A
word or two explained matters, and she took her
husband's arm, declining to answer any questions
until she reached the house, and laughing at his
curiosity.

Pierre-Etienne de Saint-Faust de Lamotte, one
of the king's equerries, seigneur of Grange-Flandre,
Valperfond, etc., had married Marie-Frangoise
Perier in 1760. Their fortune resembled many
others of that period: it was more nominal than
actual, more showy than solid. Not that the hus-
band and wife had any cause for self-reproach, or
that their estates had suffered from dissipation;
unstained by the corrupt manners of the period,
their union had been a model of sincere affection,
of domestic virtue and mutual confidence. Marie-
Frangoise was quite beautiful enough to have made
a sensation in society, but she renounced it of her
own accord, in order to devote herself to the duties
of a wife and mother. The only serious grief she
and her husband had experienced was the loss of

1527

CELEBRATED CRIMES

two young children. Edouard, though delicate
from his birth, had nevertheless passed the trying
years of infancy and early adolescence; he was then
nearly fourteen. With a sweet and rather effemin-
ate expression, blue eyes and a pleasant smile, he
was a striking likeness of his mother. His father's
affection exaggerated the dangers which threatened
the boy, and in his eyes the slightest indisposition
became a serious malady; his mother shared these
fears, and in consequence of this anxiety Edouard's
education had been much neglected. He had been
brought up at Buisson-Souef, and allowed to run
wild from morning till night, like a young fawn,
exercising the vigour and activity of its limbs. He
had still the simplicity and general ignorance of a
child of nine or ten.

The necessity of appearing at court and suitably
defraying the expenses of his office had made great
inroads on Monsieur de Lamotte's fortune. He
had of late lived at Buisson-Souef in the most com-
plete retirement; but notwithstanding this too long
deferred attention to his affairs, his property was
ruining him, for the place required a large expendi-
ture, and absorbed a large amount of his income
without making any tangible return. He had al-
ways hesitated to dispose of the estate on account
of its associations ; it was there he had met, courted,
and married his beloved wife; there that the happy

1528

DERUES

days of their youth had been spent ; there that they
both wished to grow old together.

Such was the family to which accident had now
introduced Derues. The unfavourable impression
made on Monsieur de Lamotte had not passed un-
perceived by him; but, being quite accustomed to
the instinctive repugnance which his first appearance
generally inspired, Derues had made a successful
study of how to combat and efface this antagonistic
feeling, and replace it by confidence, using different
means according to the persons he had to deal with.
He understood at once that vulgar methods would
be useless with Monsieur de Lamotte, whose appear-
ance and manners indicated both the man of the
world and the man of intelligence, and also he had
to consider the two priests, who were both observ-
ing him attentively. Fearing a false step, he as-
sumed the most simple and insignificant deportment
he could, knowing that sooner or later a third per-
son would rehabilitate him in the opinion of those
present. Nor did he wait long.

Arrived at the drawing-room. Monsieur de La-
motte requested the company to be seated. Derues
acknowledged the courtesy by a bow, and there was
a moment of silence, while Edouard and his mother
looked at each other and smiled. The silence was
broken by Madame de Lamotte.

" Dear Pierre," she said, " you are surprised to

1529

CELEBRATED CRIMES

see us accompanied by a stranger, but when you hear
what he has done for us you will thank me for
having induced him to return here with us."

" Allow me," interrupted Derues, — " allow me to
tell you what happened. The gratitude which
madame imagines she owes me causes her to exag-
gerate a small service which anybody would have
been delighted to render."

" No, monsieur ; let me tell it."

" Let mamma tell the story," said Edouard.

" What is it, then ? What happened ? " said
Monsieur de Lamotte,

" I am quite ashamed," answered Derues ; " but
I obey your wishes, madame."

" Yes," replied Madame de Lamotte, " keep your
seat, I wish it. Imagine, Pierre, just six days ago,
an accident happened to Edouard and me which
might have had serious consequences."

"And you never wrote to me, Marie?"

" I should only have made you anxious, and to
no purpose. I had some business in one of the
most crowded parts of Paris; I took a chair, and
Edouard walked beside me. In the rue Beaubourg
we were suddenly surrounded by a mob of low
people, who were quarrelling. Carriages stopped
the way, and the horses of one of these took fright
in the confusion and uproar, and bolted, in spite
of the coachman's endeavours to keep them in

1530

DERUES

hand. It was a horrible tumult, and I tried to get
out of the chair, but at that moment the chairmen
were both knocked down, and I fell. It is a miracle
I was not crushed. I was dragged insensible from
under the horses' feet and carried into the house
before which all this took place. There, sheltered
in a shop and safe from the crowd which encum-
bered the doorway, I recovered my senses, thanks
to the assistance of Monsieur Derues, who lives
there. But that is not all : when I recovered I
could not walk, I had been so shaken by the fright,
the fall, and the danger I had incurred, and I had
to accept his offer of finding me another chair when
the crowd should disperse, and meanwhile to take
shelter in his rooms with his wife, who showed me
the kindest attention."

"Monsieur " said Monsieur de Lamotte,

rising. But his wife stopped him.

" Wait a moment ; I have not finished yet.
Monsieur Derues came back in an hour, and I was
then feeling better; but before I left I was stupid
enough to say that I had been robbed in the confu-
sion ; my diamond earrings, which had belonged to
my mother, were gone. You cannot imagine the
trouble Monsieur Derues took to discover the thief,
and all the appeals he made to the police — I was
really ashamed ! "

Although Monsieur de Lamotte did not yet

1531

CELEBRATED CRIMES

understand what motive, other than gratitude, had
induced his wife to bring this stranger home with
her, he again rose from his seat, and going to
Derues, held out his hand.

" I understand now the attachment my son shows
for you. You are wrong in trying to lessen your
good deed in order to escape from our gratitude,
Monsieur Derues."

"Monsieur Derues?" inquired the monk.

"Do you know the name, my father?" asked
Madame de Lamotte eagerly.

" Edouard had already told me," said the monk,
approaching Derues.

" You live in the rue Beaubourg, and you are
Monsieur Derues, formerly a retail grocer?"

" The same, my brother."

" Should you require a reference, I can give it.
Chance, madame, has made you acquainted with a
man whose reputation for piety and honour is well
established ; he will permit me to add my praises to
yours."

" Indeed, I do not know how I deserve so much
honour."

" I am Brother Marchois, of the Camaldulian
order. You see that I know you well."

The monk then proceeded to explain that his
community had confided their affairs to Derues'
honesty, he undertaking to dispose of the articles

1532

DERUES

manufactured by the monks in their retreat. He
then recounted a number of good actions and of
marks of piety, which were heard with pleasure
and admiration by those present. Derues received
this cloud of incense with an appearance of sincere
modesty and humility, which would have deceived
the most skilful physiognomist.

When the eulogistic warmth of the good brother
began to slacken it was already nearly dark, and
the two priests had barely time to regain the pres-
bytery without incurring the risk of breaking their
necks in the rough road which led to it. They
departed at once, and a room was got ready for
Derues.

" To-morrow," said Madame de Lamotte as they
separated, " you can discuss with my husband the
business on which you came : to-morrow, or another
day, for I beg that you will make yourself at home
here, and the longer you will stay the better it
will please us."

The night was a sleepless one for Derues, whose
brain was occupied by a confusion of criminal
plans. The chance which had caused his acquaint-
ance with Madame de Lamotte, and even more the
accident of Brother Marchois appearing in the
nick of time, to enlarge upon the praises which
gave him so excellent a character, seemed like
favourable omens not to be neglected. He began
1533

CELEBRATED CRIMES

to imagine fresh villanies, to outline an unheard-of
crime, which as yet he could not definitely trace
out; but anyhow there would be plunder to seize
and blood to spill, and the spirit of murder excited
and kept him awake, just as remorse might have
troubled the repose of another.

Meanwhile Madame de Lamotte, having retired
with her husband, was saying to the latter —

"Well, now ! what do you think of my protege,
or rather, of the protector which Heaven sent
me?"

" I think that physiognomy is often very decep-
tive, for I should have been quite willing to hang
him on the strength of his."

" It is true that his appearance is not attractive,
and it led me into a foolish mistake which I quickly
regretted. When I recovered consciousness, and saw
him attending on me, much worse and more care-
lessly dressed than he is to-day "

"You were frightened?"

" No, not exactly ; but I thought I must be in-
debted to a man of the lowest class, to some poor
fellow who was really starving, and my first efiFort
at gratitude was to offer him a piece of gold."

"Did he refuse it?"

" No; he accepted it for the poor of the parish.
Then he told me his name, Cyrano Derues de Bury,
and told me that the shop and the goods it contained

1534

DERUES

were his own property, and that he occupied an
apartment in the house. I floundered in excuses,
but he repHed that he blessed the mistake, inas-
much as it would enable him to relieve some unfor-
tunate people. I was so touched with his goodness
that I offered him a second piece of gold."

" You were quite right, my dear ; but what in-
duced you to bring him to Buisson ? I should have
gone to see and thank him the first time I went to
Paris, and meanwhile a letter would have been suf-
ficient. Did he carry his complaisance and interest
so far as to offer you his escort ? "

" Ah ! I see you cannot get over your first im-
pression— honestly, is it not so ? "

" Indeed," exclaimed Monsieur de Lamotte,
laughing heartily, "it is truly unlucky for a decent
man to have such a face as that ! He ought to give
Providence no rest until he obtains the gift of
another countenance."

" Always these prejudices ! It is not the poor
man's fault that he was born like that."

" Well, you said something about business we
were to discuss together — what is it ? "

" I believe he can help us to obtain the money we
are in want of."

" And who told him that we wanted any? "

"I did."

" You ! Come, it certainly seems that this gen-

1535

CELEBRATED CRIMES

tleman is to be a family friend. And pray what in-
duced you to confide in him to this extent ? "

" You would have known by now, if you did not
interrupt. Let me tell you all in order. The day
after my accident I went out with Edouard about
midday, and I went to again express my gratitude
for his kindness. I was received by Madame
Derues, who told me her husband was out, and
that he had gone to my hotel to inquire after me
and my son, and also to see if anything had been
heard of my stolen earrings. She appeared a sim-
ple and very ordinary sort of person, and she
begged me to sit down and wait for her husband. I
thought it would be uncivil not to do so, and Mon-
sieur Derues appeared in about two hours. The
first thing he did, after having saluted me and in-
quired most particularly after my health, was to ask
for his children, two charming little things, fresh
and rosy, whom he covered with kisses. We talked
about indifferent matters, then he offered me his
services, placed himself at my disposal, and begged
me to spare neither his time nor his trouble. I then
told him what had brought me to Paris, and also
the disappointments I had encountered, for of all
the people I had seen not one had given me a fav-
ourable answer. He said that he might possibly be
of some use to me, and the very next day told me
that he had seen a capitalist, but could do nothing

1536

DERUES

without more precise information. Then I thought
it might be better to bring him here, so that he
might talk matters over with you. When I
first asked him, he refused altogether, and only
yielded to my earnest entreaties and Edouard's.
This is the history, dear, of the circumstances
under which I made Monsieur Derues' acquaint-
ance. I hope you do not think I have acted
foolishly?"

" Very well," said Monsieur de Lamotte, " I will
talk to him to-morrow, and in any case I promise
you I will be civil to him. I will not forget that he
has been useful to you." With which promise the
conversation came to a close.

Skilled in assuming any kind of mask and in
playing every sort of part, Derues did not find it
difficult to overcome Monsieur de Lamotte's pre-
judices, and in order to obtain the goodwill of the
father he made a skilful use of the friendship which
the son had formed with him. One can hardly
think that he already meditated the crime which he
carried out later; one prefers to believe that these
atrocious plots were not invented so long before-
hand. But he was already a prey to the idea, and
nothing henceforth could turn him from it. By
what route he should arrive at the distant goal
which his greed foresaw, he knew not as yet, but he
had said to himself, " One day this property shall
1537

Diimas — ^Vol. 5 — C

CELEBRATED CRIMES

be mine." It was the death-warrant of those who
owned it.

We have no details, no information as to Derues'
first visit to Buisson-Souef, but when he departed
he had obtained the complete confidence of the
family, and a regular correspondence was carried
on between him and the Lamottes. It was thus
that he was able to exercise his talent of forgery,
and succeeded in imitating the writing of this un-
fortunate lady so as to be able even to deceive her
husband. Several months passed, and none of the
hopes which Derues had inspired were realised; a
loan was always on the point of being arranged,
and regularly failed because of some unforeseen cir-
cumstance. These pretended negotiations were
managed by Derues with so much skill and cunning
that instead of being suspected, he was pitied for
having so much useless trouble. Meanwhile, Mon-
sieur de Lamotte's money difficulties increased, and
the sale of Buisson-Souef became inevitable. De-
rues offered himself as a purchaser, and actually
acquired the property by private contract, dated
December 22, 1775. It was agreed between the
parties that the purchase-money of one hundred
and thirty thousand livres should not be paid until
1776, in order to allow Derues to collect the various
sums at his disposal. It was an important purchase,
which, he said, he only made on account of his in-

1538

DERUES

terest in Monsieur de Lamotte, and his wish to put
an end to the latter's difficulties.

But when the period agreed on arrived, towards
the middle of 1776, Derues found it impossible to
pay. It is certain that he never meant to do so ; and
a special peculiarity of this dismal story is the
avarice of the man, the passion for money which
overruled all his actions, and occasionally caused
him to neglect necessary prudence. Enriched by
three bankruptcies, by continual thefts, by usury,
the gold he acquired promptly seemed to disappear.
He stuck at nothing to obtain it, and once in his
grasp, he never let it go again. Frequently he
risked the loss of his character for honest dealing
rather than relinquish a fraction of his wealth.
According to many credible people, it was generally
believed by his contemporaries that this monster
possessed treasures which he had buried in the
ground, the hiding-place of which no one knew, not
even his wife. Perhaps it is only a vague and un-
founded rumour, which should be rejected; or is it,
perhaps, a truth which failed to reveal itself? It
would be strange if after the lapse of half a century
the hiding-place were to open and give up the fruit
of his rapine. Who knows whether some of this
treasure, accidentally discovered, may not have
founded fortunes whose origin is unknown, even to
their possessors?

1539

CELEBRATED CRIMES

Although it was of the utmost importance not to
arouse Monsieur de Lamotte's suspicions just at
the moment when he ought to be paying him so
large a sum, Derues was actually at this time being
sued by his creditors. But in those days ordinary
lawsuits had no publicity; they struggled and died
between the magistrates and advocates without
causing any sound. In order to escape the arrest
and detention with which he was threatened, he"
took refuge at Buisson-Souef with his family, and
remained there from Whitsuntide till the end of
November. After being treated all this time as a
friend, Derues departed for Paris, in order, he said,
to receive an inheritance which would enable him
to pay the required purchase-money.

This pretended inheritance was that of one of his
wife's relations, Monsieur Despeignes-Duplessis,
who had been murdered in his country house, near
Beauvais. It has been strongly suspected that
Derues was guilty of this crime. There are, how-
ever, no positive proofs, and we prefer only to
class it as a simple possibility.

Derues had made formal promises to Monsieur
de Lamotte, and it was no longer possible for him
to elude them. Either the payment must now be
made, or the contract annulled. A new correspon-
dence began between the creditors and the debtor;
friendly letters were exchanged, full of protesta-

1540

DERUES

tions on one side and confidence on the other. But
all Derues' skill could only obtain a delay of a few
months. At length Monsieur de Lamotte, unable
to leave Buisson-Souef himself, on account of im-
portant business which required his presence, gave
his wife a power of attorney, consented to another
separation, and sent her to Paris, accompanied by
Edouard, and as if to hasten their misfortunes,
sent notice of their coming to the expectant mur-
derer.

We have passed quickly over the interval between
the first meeting of Monsieur de Lamotte and Derues,
and the moment when the victims fell into the trap:
we might easily have invented long conversations,
and episodes which would have brought Derues'
profound hypocrisy into greater relief; but the
reader now knows all that we care to show him.
We have purposely lingered in our narration in the
endeavour to explain the perversities of this mys-
terious organisation; we have over-loaded it with
all the facts. which seem to throw any light upon
this sombre character. But now, after these long
preparations, the drama opens, the scenes become
rapid and lifelike ; events, long impeded, accumulate
and pass quickly before us, the action is connected
and hastens to an end. We shall see Derues like an
unwearied Proteus, changing names, costumes,
language, multiplying himself in many forms,

I541

CELEBRATED CRIMES

scattering deceptions and lies from one end of
France to the other; and finally, after so many ef-
forts, such prodigies of calculation and activity,
end by wrecking himself against a corpse.

The letter written at Buisson-Souef arrived at
Paris the morning of the 14th of December. In
the course of the day an unknown man presented
himself at the hotel where Madame de Lamotte
and her son had stayed before, and inquired what
rooms were vacant. There were four, and he
engaged them for a certain Dumoulin, who had
arrived that morning from Bordeaux, and who had
passed through Paris in order to meet, at some little
distance, relations who would return with him. A
part of the rent was paid in advance, and it was
expressly stipulated that until his return the rooms
should not be let to anyone, as the aforesaid
Dumoulin might return with his family and require
them at any moment. The same person went to
other hotels in the neighbourhood and engaged
vacant rooms, sometimes for a stranger he ex-
pected, sometimes for friends whom he could not
accommodate himself.

At about three o'clock, the Place de Greve was
full of people, thousands of heads crowded the
windows of the surrounding houses. A parricide
was to pay the penalty of his crime — a crime com-
mitted under atrocious circumstances, with an

1542

DERUES

unheard-of refinement of barbarity. The punish-
ment corresponded to the crime: the wretched man
was broken on the wheel. The most complete and
terrible silence prevailed in the multitude eager for
ghastly emotions. Three times already had been
heard the heavy thud of the instrument which broke
the victim's limbs, and a loud cry escaped the
sufferer which made all who heard it shudder with
horror. One man only, who, in spite of all his
efforts, could not get through the crowd and cross
the square, remained unmoved, and looking con-
temptuously towards the criminal, muttered,
" Idiot ! he was unable to deceive anyone ! "

A few moments later the flames began to rise
from the funeral pile, the crowd began to move,
and the man was able to make his way through
and reach one of the streets leading out of the
square.

The sky was overcast, and the grey daylight
hardly penetrated the narrow lane, hideous and
gloomy as the name it bore, and which, only a few
years ago, still wound like a long serpent through
the mire of this quarter. Just then it was deserted,
owing to the attraction of the execution close by.
The man who had just left the square proceeded
slowly, attentively reading all the inscriptions on
the doors. He stopped at Number 75, where on
the threshold of a shop sat a stout woman busily

1543

CELEBRATED CRIMES

knitting, over whom one read in big yellow letters,
" Widow Masson." He saluted the woman, and
asked —

"Is there not a cellar to let in this house? "
" There is, master," answered the widow.
"Can I speak to the owner?"
" And that is myself, by your leave."
" Will you show me the cellar? I am a provin-
cial wine merchant, my business often brings me to
Paris, and I want a cellar where I could deposit
wine which I sell on commission."

They went down together. After examining the
place, and ascertaining that it was not too damp
for the expensive wine which he wished to leave
there, the man agreed about the rent, paid the first
term in advance, and was entered on the widow
Masson's books under the name of Ducoudray. It
is hardly necessary to remark that it should have
been Derues.

When he returned home in the evening, his wife
told him that a large box had arrived.

" It is all right," he said, " the carpenter from
whom I ordered it is a man of his word." Then
he supped, and caressed his children. The next day
being Sunday, he received the communion, to the
great edification of the devout people of the neigh-
bourhood.

On Monday the i6th Madame de Lamotte and

1544

DERUES

Edouard, descending from the Montereau stage-
coach, were met by Derues and his wife.

" Did my husband write to you, Monsieur
Derues ? " inquired Madame de Lamotte.

" Yes, madame, two days ago ; and I have ar-
ranged our dwelling for your reception."

" What ! but did not Monsieur de Lamotte ask
you to engage the rooms I have had before at the
Hotel de France ? "

" He did not say so, and if that was your idea
I trust you will change it. Do not deprive me of
the pleasure of offering you the hospitality which
for so long I have accepted from you. Your room
is quite ready, also one for this dear boy," and so
saying he took Edouard's hand; "and I am sure if
you ask his opinion, he will say you had better be
content to stay with me."

" Undoubtedly," said the boy; " and I do not see
why there need be any hesitation between friends."

Whether by accident, or secret presentiment, or
because she foresaw a possibility of business dis-
cussions between them, Madame de Lamotte
objected to this arrangement. Derues having a
business appointment which he was bound to keep,
desired his wife to accompany the Lamottes to the
Hotel de France, and in case of their not being able
to find rooms there, mentioned three others as the
only ones in the quarter where they could be com-

1545

CELEBRATED CRIMES

fortably accommodated. Two hours later Madame
de Lamotte and her son returned to his house in
the rue Beaubourg.

The house which Derues occupied stood opposite
the rue des Menetriers, and was pulled down quite
lately to make way for the rue Rambuteau. In
1776 it was one of the finest houses of the rue Beau-
bourg, and it required a certain income to be able
to live there, the rents being tolerably high. A
large arched doorway gave admittance to a passage,
lighted at the other end by a small court, on the far
side of which was the shop into \vhich Madame de
Lamotte had been taken on the occasion of the acci-
dent. The house staircase was to the right of the
passage, and the Derues' dwelling on the entresol.
The first room, lighted by a window looking into
the court, was used as a dining-room, and led into
a simply furnished sitting-room, such as was gen-
erally found among the bourgeois and trades-people
of this period. To the right of the sitting-room
was a large closet, which could serve as a small
study or could hold a bed; to the left was a door
opening into the Derues' bedroom, which had been
prepared for Madame de Lamotte. Madame
Derues would occupy one of the two beds which
stood in the alcove. Derues had a bed made up in
the sitting-room, and Edouard was accommodated
in the little study.

1546

DERUES

Nothing particular happened during the first few
days which followed the Lamottes' arrival. They
had not come to Paris only on account of the Buis-
son-Souef affairs. Edouard was nearly sixteen,
and after much hesitation his parents had decided
on placing him in some school where his hitherto
neglected education might receive more attention.
Derues undertook to find a capable tutor, in whose
house the boy would be brought up in the religious
feeling which the cure of Buisson and his own
exhortations had already tended to develop. These
proceedings, added to Madame de Lamotte's en-
deavours to collect various sums due to her
husband, took some time. Perhaps, when on the
point of executing a terrible crime, Derues tried to
postpone the fatal moment, although, considering
his character, this seems unlikely, for one cannot
do him the honour of crediting him with a single
moment of remorse, doubt, or pity. Far from
it, it appears from all the information which can
be gathered, that Derues, faithful to his own tradi-
tions, was simply experimenting on his unfortunate
guests, for no sooner were they in his house than
both began to complain of constant nausea, which
they had never suffered from before. While he
thus ascertained the strength of their constitution,
he was able, knowing the cause of the malady, to
give them relief, so that Madame de Lamotte,
1547

CELEBRATED CRIMES

although she grew daily weaker, had so much con-
fidence in him as to think it unnecessary to call in
a doctor. Fearing to alarm her husband, she never
mentioned her sufferings, and her letters only
spoke of the care and kind attention which she
received.

On the 15th of January, 1777, Edouard was
placed in a school in the rue de I'Homme Arme.
His mother never saw him again. She went out
once more to place her husband's power of attorney
with a lawyer in the rue de Paon. On her return
she felt so weak and broken-down that she was
obliged to go to bed and remain there for several
days. On January 29th the unfortunate lady had
risen, and was sitting near the window which over-
looked the deserted rue des Menetriers, where
clouds of snow were drifting before the wind. Who
can guess the sad thoughts which may have pos-
sessed her? — all around dark, cold, and silent, tend-
ing to produce painful depression and involuntary
dread. To escape the gloomy ideas which besieged
her, her mind went back to the smiling times of her
youth and marriage. She recalled the time when,
alone at Buisson during her husband's enforced
absences, she wandered with her child in the cool
and shaded walks of the park, and sat out in the
evening, inhaling the scent of the flowers, and
listening to the murmur of the water, or the sound

1548

DERUES

of the whispering breeze in the leaves. Then,
coming back from these sweet recollections to
reality, she shed tears, and called on her husband
and son. So deep was her reverie that she did not
hear the room door open, did not perceive that
darkness had come on. The light of a candle, dis-
persing the shadows, made her start; she turned
her head, and saw Derues coming towards her.
He smiled, and she made an effort to keep back the
tears which were shining in her eyes, and to appear
calm.

" I am afraid I disturb you," he said. " I came
to ask a favour, madame."

"What is it, Monsieur Derues? " she inquired.

" Will you allow me to have a large chest brought
into this room? I ought to pack some valuable
things in it which are in my charge, and are now
in this cupboard. I am afraid it will be in your
way."

" Is it not your own house, and is it not rather
I who am in the way and a cause of trouble? Pray
have it brought in, and try to forget that I am here.
You are most kind to me, but I wish I could spare
you all this trouble and that I were fit to go back
to Buisson. I had a letter from my husband
yesterday "

" We will talk about that presently, if you wish
it," said Derues. " I will go and fetch the servant
1549

CELEBRATED CRIMES

to help me to carry in this chest. I have put
it off hitherto, but it really must be sent in tliree
days."

He went away, and returned in a few minutes.
The chest was carried in, and placed before the
cupboard at the foot of the bed. Alas! the poor
lady little thought it was her own coffin which stood
before her !

The maid withdrew, and Derues assisted Madame
de Lamotte to a seat near the fire, which he revived
with more fuel. He sat down opposite to her, and
by the feeble light of the candle placed on a small
table between them could contemplate at leisure the
ravages wrought by poison on her wasted features.

" I saw your son to-day," he said : " he complains
that you neglect him, and have not seen him for
twelve days. He does not know yoU have been ill,
nor did I tell him. The dear boy! he loves you so
tenderly."

" And I also long to see him. My friend, I can-
not tell you what terrible presentiments beset me;
it seems as if I were threatened with some great
misfortune; and just now, when you came in, I
could think only of death. What is the cause of
this languor and weakness? It is surely no tem-
porary ailment. Tell me the truth : am I not dread-
fully altered? and do you not think my husband
will be shocked when he sees me like this ? "

1550

DERUES

" You are unnecessarily anxious," replied Derues ;
" it is rather a failing of yours. Did I not see you
last year tormenting yourself about Edouard's
health, when he was not even thinking of being ill ?
I am not so soon alarmed. My own old profession,
and that of chemistry, which I studied in my youth,
have given me some acquaintance with medicine.
I have frequently been consulted, and have pre-
scribed for patients whose condition was supposed
to be desperate, and I can assure you I have never
seen a better and stronger constitution than yours.
Try to calm yourself, and do not call up chimeras,
because a mind at ease is the greatest enemy of ill-
ness. This depression will pass, and then you will
regain your strength."

" May God grant it ! for I feel weaker every
day."

" We have still some business to transact to-
gether. The notary at Beauvais writes that the
difficulties which prevented his paying over the in-
heritance of my wife's relation, Monsieur Duplessis,
have mostly disappeared. I have a hundred thou-
sand livres at my disposal, — that is to say, at yours,
— and in a month at latest I shall be able to pay off
my debt. You ask me to be sincere," he continued,
with a tinge of reproachful irony; "be sincere in
your turn, madame, and acknowledge that you and
your husband have both felt uneasy, and that the

1551

CELEBRATED CRIMES

delays I have been obliged to ask for have not
seemed very encouraging to you ? "

" It is true," she repHed ; " but we never ques-
tioned your good faith."

"And you were right. One is not always able
to carry out one's intentions; events can always
upset our calculations; but what really is in our
power is the desire to do right — to be honest; and
I can say that I never intentionally wronged any-
one. And now I am happy in being able to fulfil
my promises to you. I trust when I am the owner
of Buisson-Souef you will not feel obliged to
leave it."

"Thank you; I should like to come occasionally,
for all my happy recollections are connected with
it. Is it necessary for me to accompany you to
Beauvais? "

" Why should you not ? The change would do
you good."

She looked up at him and smiled sadly. " I am
not in a fit state to undertake it."

" Not if you imagine that you are unable, cer-
tainly. Come, have you any confidence in me ? "

" The most complete confidence, as you know."

" Very well, then : trust to my care. This very
evening I will prepare a draught for you to take
to-morrow morning, and I will even now fix the
duration of this terrible malady which frightens

1552

DERUES

you SO much. In two days I shall fetch Edouard
from his school to celebrate the beginning of your
convalescence, and we will start, at latest, on Febru-
ary I St. You are astonished at what I say, but you
shall see if I am not a good doctor, and much clev-
erer than many who pass for such merely because
they have obtained a diploma." "

" Then, doctor, I will place myself in your
hands."

" Remember what I say. You will leave this on
February ist."

" To begin this cure, can you ensure my sleeping
to-night ? "

" Certainly. I will go now, and send my wife
to you. She will bring a draught, which you must
promise to take."

" I will exactly follow your prescriptions. Good-
night, my friend."

" Good-night, madame ; and take courage " ; and
bowing low, he left the room.

The rest of the evening was spent in preparing
the fatal medicine. The next morning, an hour
or two after Madame de Lamotte had swallowed
it, the maid who had given it to her came and told
Derues the invalid was sleeping very heavily and
snoring, and asked if she ought to be awoke. He
went into the room, and, opening the curtains, ap-
proached the bed. He listened for some time, and

1553

CELEBRATED CRIMES

recognised that the supposed snoring was really the
death-rattle. He sent the servant off into the coun-
try with a letter to one of his friends, telling her
not to return until the Monday following, February
3rd. He also sent away his wife, on some unknown
pretext, and remained alone with his victim.

So terrible a situation ought to have troubled
the mind of the most hardened criminal. A man
familiar with murder and accustomed to shed blood
might have felt his heart sink, and, in the absence
of pity, might have experienced disgust at the sight
of this prolonged and useless torture; but Derues,
calm and easy, as if unconscious of evil, sat coolly
beside the bed, as any doctor might have done.
From time to time he felt the slackening pulse, and
looked at the glassy and sightless eyes which turned
in their orbits, and he saw without terror the ap-
proach of night, which rendered this awful tete-a-
tete even more horrible. The most profound silence
reigned in the house, the street was deserted, and
the only sound heard was caused by an icy rain
mixed with snow driven against the glass, and
occasionally the howl of the wind, which pene-
trated the chimney and scattered the ashes. A
single candle placed behind the curtains lighted this
dismal scene, and the irregular flicker of its flame
cast weird reflections and dancing shadows on the
walls of the alcove. There came a lull in the wind,

1554

DERUES

the rain ceased, and during this instant of calm
someone knocked, at first gently, and then sharply,
at the outer door. Derues dropped the dying
woman's hand and bent forward to listen. The
knock was repeated, and he grew pale. He threw
the sheet, as if it were a shroud, over his victim's
head, drew the curtains of the alcove, and went to
the door. " Who is there ? " he inquired.

" Open, Monsieur Derues," said a voice which
he recognised as that of a woman of Chartres whose
affairs he managed, and who had entrusted him
with sundry deeds in order that he might receive
the money due to her. This woman had bfegun to
entertain doubts as to Derues' honesty, and as she
was leaving Paris the next day, had resolved to get
the papers out of his hands.

" Open the door," she repeated. " Don't you
know my voice ? "

" I am sorry I cannot let you in. My servant is
out: she has taken the key and locked the door
outside."

" You must let me in," the woman continued ;
" it is absolutely necessary I should speak to you."

" Come to-morrow.'*

" I leave Paris to-morrow, and I must have those
papers to-night."

He again refused, but she spoke firmly and de-
cidedly. " I must come in. The porter said you

1555

CELEBRATED CRIMES

were all out, but, from the rue des Menetriers, I
could see the light in your room. My brother is
with me, and I left him below. I shall call him,
if you don't open the door."

" Come in, then," said Derues ; " your papers
are in the sitting-room. Wait here, and I will fetch
them." The woman looked at him and took his
hand. " Heavens ! how pale you are ! What is the
matter?"

" Nothing is the matter : will you wait here ? "
But she would not release his arm., and followed
him into the sitting-room, where Derues began to
seek hurriedly among the various papers which
covered a table. "Here they are," he said; "now
you can go."

" Really," said the woman, examining her deeds
carefully, " never yet did I see you in such a hurry
to give up things which don't belong to you. But
do hold that candle steadily; your hand is shaking
so that I cannot see to read."

At that moment the silence which prevailed all
round was broken by a cry of anguish, a long groan
proceeding from the chamber to the right of the
sitting-room.

" What is that? " cried the woman. " Surely it
is a dying person ! "

The sense of the danger which threatened made
Derues pull himself together. " Do not be alarmed,"

1556

DERUES

he said. " My wife has been seized with a violent
fever; she is quite delirious now, and that is why
I told the porter to let no one come up."

But the groans in the next room continued, and
the unwelcome visitor, overcome by terror which
she could neither surmount nor explain, took a
hasty leave, and descended the staircase with all
possible rapidity. As soon as he could close the
door, Derues returned to the bedroom.

Nature frequently collects all her expiring
strength at the last moment of existence. The un-
happy lady struggled beneath her coverings; the
agony she suffered had given her a convulsive
energy, and inarticulate sounds proceeded from her
mouth. Derues approached and held her on the
bed. She sank back on the pillow, shuddering con-
vulsively, her hands plucking and twisting the
sheets, her teeth chattering and biting the loose hair
which fell over her face and shoulders. " Water !
water ! " she cried ; and then, " Edouard, — my hus-
band ! — Edouard ! — is it you ? " Then rising with
a last effort, she seized her murderer by the arm,
repeating, " Edouard ! — oh ! " and then fell heavily,
dragging Derues down with her. His face was
against hers ; he raised his head, but the dying hand,
clenched in agony, had closed upon him like a vise.
The icy fingers seemed made of iron and could not
be opened, as though the victim had seized on her

1557

CELEBRATED CRIMES

assassin as a prey, and clung to the proof of his
crime,

Derues at last freed himself, and putting his hand
on her heart, " It is over," he remarked ; " she has
been a long time about it. What o'clock is it? — •
Nine! She has struggled against death for twelve
hours!"

While the limbs still retained a little warmth, he
drew the feet together, crossed the hands on the
breast, and placed the body in the chest. When
he had locked it up, he remade the bed, undressed
himself, and slept comfortably in the other one.

The next day, February ist, the day he had fixed
for the " going out " of Madame de Lamotte, he
caused the chest to be placed on a hand-cart and
carried at about ten o'clock in the morning to the
workshop of a carpenter of his acquaintance called
Mouchy, who dwelt near the Louvre. The two
commissionaires employed had been selected in dis-
tant quarters, and did not know each other. They
were well paid, and each presented w^ith a bottle of
wine. These men could never be traced. Derues
requested the carpenter's wife to allow the chest to
remain in the large workshop, saying he had for-
gotten something at his own house, and would
return to fetch it in three hours. But, instead of
a few hours, he left it for two whole days — why,
one does not know, but it may be supposed that he

1558

DERUES

wanted the time to dig a trench in a sort of vault
under the staircase leading to the cellar in the rue
de la Mortellerie. Whatever the cause, the delay
might have been fatal, and did occasion an unfore-
seen encounter which nearly betrayed him. But of
all the actors in this scene he alone l^new the real
danger he incurred, and his coolness never deserted
him for a moment.

The third day, as he waljced alongside the hand-
cart on which the cjiest was being conveyed, he was
accosted at Saint Germain I'Auxerrois by a creditor
who had obtained a writ of execution against him,
and at the imperative sign made by this man the
porter stopped. The creditor attacked Derues vio-
lently, reproaching him for his bad faith in lan-
guage which was both energetic and uncompliment-
ary; to which the latter replied in as conciliatory a
manner as he could assurne. But it was impossible
to silence the enemy, and an increasing crowd of
idlers began to assemble round them.

" When will you pay me ? " demanded the
creditor. " I have an execution against you. What
is there in that box? Valuables which you cart
away secretly, in order to laugh at my just claims,
as you did two years ago ? "

Derues shuddered all over; he exhausted himself
in protestations; but the other, almost beside him-
self, continued to shout.

1559

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" Oh ! " he said, turning to the crowd, " all these
tricks and grimaces and signs of the cross are no
good. I must have my money, and as I know what
his promises are worth, I will pay myself! Come,
you knave, make haste. Tell me what there
is in that box; open it, or I will fetch the
police,"

The crowd was divided between the creditor and
debtor, and possibly a free fight would have begun,
but the general attention was distracted by the ar-
rival of another spectator. A voice heard above
all the tumult caused a score of heads to turn, it
was the voice of a woman crying —

" The abominable history of Leroi de Valine,
condemned to death at the age of sixteen for hav-
ing poisoned his entire family!"

Continually crying her wares, the drunken, stag-
gering woman approached the crowd, and striking
out right and left with fists and elbows, forced her
way to Derues.

" Ah ! ah ! " said she, after looking him well over,
" is it you, my gossip Derues ! Have you again a
little affair on hand like the one when you set fire
to your shop in the rue Saint- Victor ? "

Derues recognised the hawker who had abused
him on the threshold of his shop some years pre-
viously, and whom he had never seen since. " Yes,
yes," she continued, " you had better look at me

1560

DERUES

with your little round cat's eyes. Are you going to
say you don't know me ? "

Derues appealed to his creditor. " You see," he
said, " to what insults you are exposing me. I do
not know this woman who abuses me."

" What ! — you don't know me ! You who ac-
cused me of being a thief! But luckily the Manif-
fets have been known in Paris as honest people for
generations while as for you "

" Sir," said Derues, " this case contains valuable
wine which I am commissioned to sell. To-morrow
I shall receive the money for it; to-morrow, in the
course of the day, I will pay what I owe you. But
I am waited for now, do not in Heaven's name
detain me longer, and thus deprive me of the means
of paying at all."

" Don't believe him, my good man," said the
hawker ; " lying comes natural to him always."

" Sir, I promise on my oath you shall be paid to-
morrow ; you had better trust the word of an honest
man rather than the ravings of a drunken woman."

The creditor still hesitated, but another person
now spoke in Derues' favour; it was the carpenter
Mouchy, who had inquired the cause of the quarrel.

" For God's sake," he exclaimed, " let the gen-
tleman go on. That chest came from my workshop,
and I know there is wine inside it; he told my wife
so two days ago."

1561

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" Will you be surety for me, my friend ? " asked
Derues.

" Certainly I will ; I have not known you for ten
years in order to leave you in trouble and refuse
to answer for you. What, the devil ! are respectable
people to be stopped like this in a public place?
Come, sir, believe his word, as I do."

After some more discussion, the porter was at
last allowed to proceed with his hand-cart. The
hawker wanted to interfere, but Mouchy warned
her off and ordered her to be silent. " Ah, bah ! "
she cried ; " what does it matter to me ? Let him
sell his wine if he can; I shall not drink any on his
premises. This is the second time he has found a
surety to my knowledge ; the beggar must have
some special secret for encouraging the growth of
fools. Good-bye, gossip Derues; you know I shall
be selling your history some day. Meanwhile

'' The abominable history of Leroi de Valine,
condemned to death at the age of sixteen for hav-
ing poisoned his entire family! "

Whilst she amused the people by her grimaces
and grotesque gestures, and while Mouchy held
forth to some of them, Derues made his escape.
Several times between Saint-Germain I'Auxerrois
and the rue de la Mortellerie he nearly fainted, and
was obliged to stop. While the danger lasted, he
had had sufficient self-control to confront it coolly,

1562

DERUES

but now that he calculated the depth of the abyss
which for a moment had opened beneath his feet,
dizziness laid hold on him.

Other precautions now became necessary. His
real name had been mentioned before the commis-
sionaire, and the widow Masson, who owned the
cellar, only knew him as Ducoudray. He went on
in front, asked for the keys, which till then had been
left with her, and the chest was got downstairs
without any awkward questions. Only the porter
seemed astonished that this supposed wine, which
was to be sold immediately, should be put in such a
place, and asked if he might come the next day and
move it again. Derues replied that someone was
coming for it that very day. This question, and
the disgraceful scene which the man had witnessed,
made it necessary to get rid of him without letting
him see the pit dug under the staircase. Derues
tried to drag the chest towards the hole, but all his
strength was insufficient to move it. He uttered
terrible imprecations when he recognised his own
weakness, and saw that he would be obliged to
bring another stranger, an informer perhaps, into
this charnel-house, where, as yet, nothing betrayed
his crimes. No sooner escaped from one peril than
he encountered another, and already he had to strug-
gle against his own deeds. He measured the length
of the trench, it was too short. Derues went out

1563

CELEBRATED CRIMES

and repaired to the place where he had hired the
labourer who had dug it out, but he could not find
the man, whom he had only seen once, and whose
name he did not know. Two whole days were spent
in this fruitless search, but on the third, as he was
wandering on one of the quays at the time labourers
were to be found there, a mason, thinking he was
looking for someone, inquired what he wanted.
Derues looked well at the man, and concluding from
his appearance that he was probably rather simple-
minded, asked —

" Would you like to earn a crow^n of three livres
by an easy job? "

" What a question, master ! " answered the mason.
" Work is so scarce that I am going back into the
country this very evening."

" Very well ! Bring your tools, spade, and pick-
axe, and follow me,"

They both went down to the cellar, and the mason
was ordered to dig out the pit till it was five and a
half feet deep. While the man worked, Derues sat
beside the chest and read. When it was half done,
the mason stopped for breath, and leaning on his
spade, inquired why he wanted a trench of such a
depth. Derues, who had probably foreseen the ques-
tion, answered at once, without being disconcerted —

" I want to bury some bottled wine which is con-
tained in this case."

1564

DERUES

" Wine ! " said the other. " Ah ! you are laugh-
ing at me, because you think I look a fool ! I never
yet heard of such a recipe for improving wine."

" Where do you come from ? "

" D'Alengon."

" Cider drinker ! You were brought up in Nor-
mandy, that is clear. Well, you can learn from me,
Jean-Baptiste Ducoudray, a wine grower of Tours,
and a wine merchant for the last ten years, that
new wine thus buried for a year acquires the quality
and characteristics of the oldest brands."

" It is possible," said the mason, again taking his
spade, " but all the same it seems a little odd
to me."

When he had finished, Derues asked him to help
to drag the chest alongside the trench, so that it
might be easier to take out the bottles and arrange
them. The mason agreed, but when he moved the
chest the foetid odour which proceeded from it made
him draw back, declaring that a smell such as that
could not possibly proceed from wine. Derues tried
to persuade him that the smell came from drains
under the cellar, the pipe of which could be seen.
It appeared to satisfy him, and he again took hold
of the chest, but immediately let it go again, and
said positively that he could not execute Derues'
orders, being convinced that the chest must con-
tain a decomposing corpse. Then Derues threw

1565

CELEBRATED CRIMES

himself at tlie man's feet and acknowledged tliat it
was the dead body of a woman who had unfor-
tunately lodged in his house, and who had died
there suddenly from an unknown malady, and that,
dreading lest he should be accused of having mur-
dered her, he had decided to conceal the death and
bury her here.

The mason listened, alarmed at this confidence,
and not knowing whether to believe it or not. De-
rues sobbed and wept at his feet, beat his breast
and tore out his hair, calling on God and the saints
as witnesses of his good faith and his innocence.
He showed the book he was reading while the
mason excavated: it was the Seven Penitential
Psalms. " How unfortunate I am ! " he cried.
" This woman died in my house, I assure you —
died suddenly, before I could call a doctor. I was
alone ; I might have been accused, imprisoned, per-
haps condemned for a crime I did not commit. Do
not ruin me! You leave Paris to-night, you need
not be uneasy ; no one would know that I employed
you, if this unhappy affair should ever be dis-
covered. I do not know your name, I do not wish
to know it, and I tell you mine, it is Ducoudray. I
give myself up to you, but have some pity! — if not
for me, j^et for my \vife and my two little children
— for these poor creatures whose only support I
am!"

1566

DERUES

Seeing that the mason was touched, Derues
opened the chest.

" Look," he said, " examine the body of this
woman, does it show any mark of violent death?
My God! " he continued, joining his hands and in
tones of despairing agony, — " my God, Thou who
readest all hearts, and who knowest my innocence,
canst Thou not ordain a miracle to save an honest
man? Wilt Thou not command this dead body to
bear witness for me ? "

The mason was stupefied by this flow of lan-
guage. Unable to restrain his tears, he promised
to keep silence, persuaded that Derues was inno-
cent, and that appearances only were against him.
The latter, moreover, did not neglect other means
of persuasion ; he handed the mason two gold pieces,
and between them they buried the body of Madame
de Lamotte.

However extraordinary this fact, which might
easily be supposed imaginary, may appear, it cer-
tainly happened. In the examination at his trial
Derues himself revealed it, repeating the story
which had satisfied the mason. He believed that
this man had denounced him: he was mistaken, for
this confidant of his crime, who might have been
the first to put justice on his track, never reap-
peared, and but for Derues' acknowledgment his
existence would have remained unknown.
1567

CELEBRATED CRIMES

This first deed accomplished, another victim was
already appointed. Trembling at first as to the
consequences of his forced confession, Derues
waited some days, paying, however, his creditor as
promised. He redoubles his demonstrations of
piety, he casts a furtive glance on everyone he meets,
seeking for some expression of distrust. But no
one avoids him, or points him out with a raised
finger, or whispers on seeing him; everywhere he
encounters the customary expression of goodwill.
Nothing has changed; suspicion passes over his
head without alighting there. He is reassured, and
resumes his work. Moreover, had he wished to
remain passive, he could not have done so; he was
now compelled to follow that fatal law of crime
which demands that blood must be effaced with
blood, and which is compelled to appeal again to
death in order to stifle the accusing voice already
issuing from the tomb.

Edouard de Lamotte, loving his mother as much
as she loved him, became uneasy at receiving no
visits, and was astonished at this sudden indiffer-
ence. Derues wrote to him as follows : —

" I have at length some good news for you, my

dear boy, but you must not tell your mother I have

betrayed her secret; she would scold me, because

she is planning a surprise for you, and the various

1568

DERUES

Steps and care necessary in arranging this important
matter have caused her absence. You were to know
nothing until the nth or 12th of this month, but
now that all is settled, I should blame myself if I
prolonged the uncertainty in which you have been
left, only you must promise me to look as much
astonished as possible. Your mother, who only
lives for you, is going to present you with the
greatest gift a youth of your age can receive —
that of liberty. Yes, dear boy, we thought we had
discovered that you have no very keen taste for
study, and that a secluded life will suit neither your
character nor your health. In saying this I utter
no reproach, for every man is born with his own
decided tastes, and the way to success and happiness
is — often — to allow him to follow these instincts.
We have had long discussions on this subject —
your mother and I — and we have thought much
about your future; she has at last come to a deci-
sion, and for the last ten days has been at Versailles,
endeavouring to obtain your admission as a royal
page. Here is the mystery, this is the reason which
has kept her from you, and as she knew you would
hear it with delight, she wished to have the pleasure
of telling you herself. Therefore, once again, when
you see her, which will be very soon, do not let her
see I have told you ; appear to be greatly surprised.
It is true that I am asking you to tell a lie, but it is
1569

Dumas— Vol. 5 — L

CELEBRATED CRIMES

a very innocent one, and its good intention will
counteract its sinfulness — may God grant we never
have worse upon our consciences ! Thus, instead of
lessons and the solemn precepts of your tutors,
instead of a monotonous school-life, you are going
to enjoy your liberty ; also the pleasures of the court
and the world. All that rather alarms me, and I
ought to confess that I at first opposed this plan.
I begged your mother to reflect, to consider that
in this new existence you would run great risk of
losing the religious feeling which inspires you, and
which I have had the happiness, during my sojourn
at Buisson-Souef, of further developing in your
mind. I still recall with emotion your fervid and
sincere aspirations towards the Creator when you
approached the Sacred Table for the first time,
and when, kneeling beside you, and envying the
purity of heart and innocence of soul which ap-
peared to animate your countenance as with a divine
radiance, I besought God that, in default of my own
virtue, the love for heavenly Truth with which I
have inspired you might be reckoned to my account.
Your piety is my work, Edouard, and I defended it
against your mother's plans ; but she replied that in
every career a man is master of his own good or evil
actions; and as I have no authority over you, and
friendship only gives me the right to advise, I must
give way. If this be your vocation, then follow it.

1570

DERUES

" My occupations are so numerous (I have to
collect from different sources this hundred thou-
sand livres intended to defray the greater part of
the Buisson purchase) that I have not a moment in
which to come and see you this week. Spend the
time in reflection, and write to me fully what you
think about this plan. If, like me, you feel any
scruples, you must tell them to your mother, who
decidedly wants only to make you happy. Speak
to me freely, openly. It is arranged that I am to
fetch you on the nth of this month, and escort you
to Versailles, where Madame de Lamotte will be
waiting to receive you with the utmost tenderness.
Adieu, dear boy; write to me. Your father knows
nothing as yet ; his consent will be asked after your
decision."

The answer to this letter did not have to be
waited for : it was such as Derues expected ; the lad
accepted joyfully. The answer was, for the mur-
derer, an arranged plea of defence, a proof which,
in a given case, might link the present with the past.

On the morning of February i ith. Shrove Tues-
day, he went to fetch the young de Lamotte from
his school, telling the master that he was desired by
the youth's mother to conduct him to Versailles.
But, instead, he took him to his own house, saying
that he had a letter from Madame de Lamotte ask-

1571

CELEBRATED CRIMES

ing them not to come till the next day; so they
started on Ash Wednesday, Edouard having break-
fasted on chocolate. Arrived at Versailles, they
stopped at the Fleur-de-lys inn, but there the sick-
ness which the boy had complained of during the
journey became very serious, and the innkeeper,
having young children, and believing that he recog-
nised symptoms of smallpox, which just then was
ravaging Versailles, refused to receive them, saying
he had no vacant room. This might have discon-
certed anyone but Derues, but his audacity, activity,
and resource seemed to increase with each fresh
obstacle. Leaving Edouard in a room on the
ground floor which had no communication with
the rest of the inn, he went at once to look for
lodgings, and hastily explored the town. After
a fruitless search, he found at last, at the junction
of the rue Saint-Honore with that of the Orangerie,
a cooper named IMartin, who had a furnished room
to spare. This he hired at thirty sous per day
for himself and his nephew, who had been taken
suddenly ill, under the name of Beaupre. To avoid
being questioned later, he informed the cooper in a
few words that he was a doctor; that he had come
to Versailles in order to place his nephew in one of
the offices of the town; that in a few days the lat-
ter's mother would arrive to join him in seeing and
making application to influential persons about the

^S7^

DERUES

court, to whom he had letters of introduction. As
soon as he had dehvered this fable with all the ap-
pearance of truth with which he knew so well how
to disguise his falsehoods, he went back to the
young de Lamotte, who was already so exhausted
that he was hardly able to drag himself as far as
the cooper's house. He fainted on arrival, and
was carried into the hired room, where Derues
begged to be left alone with him, and only asked
for certain beverages which he told the people how
to prepare.

Whether it was that the strength of youth fought
against the poison, or that Derues took pleasure in
watching the sufferings of his victim, the agony of
the poor lad was prolonged until the fourth day.
The sickness continuing incessantly, he sent the
cooper's wife for a medicine which he prepared
and administered himself. It produced terrible
pain, and Edouard's cries brought the cooper and
his wife upstairs. They represented to Derues that
he ought to call in a doctor and consult with him,
but he refused decidedly, saying that a doctor hastily
fetched might prove to be an ignorant person with
whom he could not agree, and that he could not
allow one so dear to him to be prescribed for and
nursed by anyone but himself.

" I know what the malady is," he continued, rais-
ing his eyes to heaven ; " it is one that has to be con-

1573

CELEBRATED CRIMES

cealed rather than acknowledged. Poor youth!
whom I love as my own son, if God, touched by my
tears and thy suffering, permits me to save thee, thy
whole life will be too short for thy blessings and
thy gratitude!" And as Madame Martin asked
what this malady might be, he answered with hypo-
critical blushes —

" Do not ask, madame; there are things of which
you do not know even the name."

At another time, Martin expressed his surprise
that the young man's mother had not yet appeared,
w^ho, according to Derues, was to have met him at
Versailles. He asked how she could know that they
were lodging in his house, and if he should send to
meet her at any place where she was likely to arrive.

" His mother," said Derues, looking compassion-
ately at Edouard, who lay pale, motionless, and as
if insensible, — " his mother! He calls for her inces-
santly. Ah! monsieur, some families are greatly
to be pitied ! My entreaties prevailed on her to de-
cide on coming hither, but will she keep her prom-
ise? Do not ask me to tell you more ; it is too pain-
ful to have to accuse a mother of having forgotten
her duties in the presence of her son . . . there are
secrets which ought not to be told . . . unhappy
woman I "

Edouard moved, extended his arms, and repeated,
"Mother! . . . mother!"

1574

DERUES

Derues hastened to his side and took his hands in
his, as if to warm them.

" My mother ! " the youth repeated. " Why have
I not seen her? She was to have met me."

" You shall soon see her, dear boy ; only keep
quiet."

" But just now I thought she was dead."

" Dead ! " cried Derues. " Drive away these sad
thoughts. They are caused by the fever only."

" No ! oh no ! ... I heard a secret voice which
said, * Thy mother is dead ! ' . . . And then I be-
held a livid corpse before me. ... It was she!
. . . I knew her well! and she seemed to have
suffered so much "

" Dear boy, your mother is not dead. . . . My
God! what terrible chimeras you conjure up! You
will see her again, I assure you; she has arrived
already. Is it not so, madame ? " he asked, turn-
ing towards the Martins, who were both leaning
against the foot of the bed, and signing to them to
support this pious falsehood, in order to calm the
young man. " Did she not arrive and come to his
bedside and kiss him while he slept, and she will
soon come again ? "

" Yes, yes," said Madame Martin, wiping her
eyes ; " and she begged my husband and me to help
your uncle to take great care of you "

The youth moved again, and looking round him

1575

CELEBRATED CRIMES

with a dazed expression, said, "My uncle ?"

— " You had better go," said Derues in a whisper
to the Martins. " I am afraid he is delirious again ;
I will prepare a draught, which will give him a
little rest and sleep."

" Adieu, then, adieu," answered Madame Mar-
tin ; " and may Heaven bless you for the care you
bestow on this poor young man ! "

On Friday evening violent vomiting appeared to
have benefited the sufferer. He had rejected most
of the poison, and had a fairly quiet night. But
on the Saturday morning Derues sent the cooper's
little girl to buy more medicine, which he prepared
himself, like the first. The day was horrible, and
about six in the evening, seeing his victim was at
the last gasp, he opened a little window overlooking
the shop and summoned the cooper, requesting him
to go at once for a priest. When the latter arrived
he found Derues in tears, kneeling at the dying
boy's bedside. And now, by the light of two tapers
placed on a table, flanking the holy water-stoup,
there began what on one side was an abominable
and sacrilegious comedy, a disgraceful parody of
that which Christians consider most sacred and
most dear; on the other, a pious and consoling
ceremony. The cooper and his wife, their eyes
bathed in tears, knelt in the middle of the room,
murmuring such prayers as they could remember.

1576

DERUES

Derues gave up his place to the priest, but as
Edouard did not answer the latter's questions, he
approached the bed, and bending over the sufferer,
exhorted him to confession.

" Dear boy," he said, " take courage ; your suf-
ferings here will be counted to you above : God will
weigh them in the scales of His infinite mercy.
Listen to the words of His holy minister, cast your
sins into His bosom, and obtain from Him forgive-
ness for your faults."

"I am in such terrible pain ! " cried Edouard.
" Water ! water ! Extinguish the fire which con-
sumes me ! "

A violent fit came on, succeeded by exhaustion
and the death-rattle. Derues fell on his knees, and
the priest administered extreme unction. There
was then a moment of absolute silence, more im-
pressive than cries and sobs. The priest collected
himself for a moment, crossed himself, and began
to pray. Derues also crossed himself, and repeated
in a low voice, apparently choked by grief —

" Go forth, O Christian soul, from this world, in
the name of God the Father Almighty, who created
thee; in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the
living God, who suffered for thee; in the name of
the Holy Ghost, who was poured out upon thee."

The youth struggled in his bed, and a convulsive
movement agitated his limbs. Derues continued —

1577

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" When thy soul departs from this body may it
be admitted to the holy Mountain of Sion, to the
Heavenly Jerusalem, to the numerous company of
Angels, and to the Church of the First-born, whose
names are zvritten in Heaven "

" Mother ! ... My mother ! " cried Edouard.
Derues resumed —

" Let God arise, and let the Powers of Darkness
be dispersed! let the Spirits of Evil, zuho reign over
the air, be put to flight; let them not dare to attack
a soul redeemed by the precious blood of Jesus
Christ:'

" Amen," responded the priest and the Martins.

There was another silence, broken onb/ by the
stifled sobs of Derues. The priest again crossed
himself and took up the prayer.

" We beseech Thee, O beloved and only Son of
God, by the merits of Thy sacred Passion, Thy
Cross and TJiy Death, to deliver this Thy servant
from the pains of Hell, and to lead him to that
happy place zuhither Thou didst vouchsafe to lead
the thief, who, with Thee, was bound upon the
Cross: Thou, who art God, living and reigning
with the Father and the Holy Ghosts

" Amen,'' repeated those present. Derues now
took up the prayer, and his voice mingled with the
dying gasps of the sufferer.

"And there was a darkness over all the earth
1578

DERUES

until the ninth hour, and the sun was dark-
ened "

" My God ! . . . my God ! . . , what have I
done, that I should suffer thus?"

" And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud
voice, saying, Eloi! Eloi! lama sabachthani! My
God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken Mef"

" I am dying ! . . . Water ! water ! "

Madame Martin rose, and supporting Edouard
on the pillow, gave him a few spoonfuls of liquid.
Derues continued, more slowly —

" After this, Jesus, knowing that all things were
now accomplished, that the Scripture might he fid-
filled, saith, I thirst. Now there was set a vessel
fidl of vinegar; and they filled a sponge with vine-
gar, and put it upon hyssop and put it to His
mouth. When Jesus therefore had received the
vinegar. He said. It is finished, and having cried
with a loud voice, He said. Father, into Thy hands
I commend My spirit, and He bowed His head, and
gave up the ghost."

The dying lips moved, but could no longer artic-
ulate. The last convulsive movements relaxed, the
head fell on the breast.

" Enter not into judgment with Thy servant, 0
Lord," said the priest;

" For in Thy sight shall no man living be justi-
Hed," responded Derues.

1579

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" Deliver not unto savage beasts the souls of
those who praise Thee" ;

" And forget not for ever the souls of Thy poor."

Then, together —

" To Thee, O Lord, we commend the soul of this
Thy servant, that, being dead to the world, he may
live to Thee: and the sins he hath committed
through the frailty of his mortal nature, do Thou,
in Thy most merciful goodness, forgive and wash
away. Amen."

After which all present sprinkled holy water on
the body.

When the priest had retired, shown out by
Madame Martin, Derues said to her husband —

" This unfortunate young man has died without
the consolation of beholding his mother. . . . His
last thought was for her. . . . There now remains
the last duty, a very painful one to accomplish, but
my poor nephew imposed it on me. A few hours
ago, feeling that his end was near, he asked me, as
a last mark of friendship, not to entrust these final
duties to the hands of strangers."

While he applied himself to the necessary work
in presence of the cooper, who was much affected
by the sight of such sincere and profound affliction,
Derues added, sighing —

" I shall always grieve for this dear boy. Alas !
that evil living should have caused his early death !

1580

DERUES

I knew nothing till too late. My poor nephew suf-
fered from a terrible disease, and this, being neg-
lected, has caused his death. Bad company has
been his ruin, and his mother is much to blame.
May God have mercy on him ! "

When he had finished laying out the body, he
threw some little packets into the fire which he pro-
fessed to have found in the youth's pockets, telling
Martin, in order to support this assertion, that
they contained drugs suitable to this disgraceful
malady.

He spent the night in the room with the corpse,
as he had done in the case of Madame de Lamotte,
and the next day, Sunday, he sent Martin to the
parish church of St. Louis, to arrange for a funeral
of the simplest kind; telling him to fill up the cer-
tificate in the name of Beaupre, born at Commercy,
in Lorraine, He declined himself either to go to
the church or to appear at the funeral, saying that
his grief was too great. Martin, returning from the
funeral, found him engaged in prayer. Derues
gave him the dead youth's clothes and departed,
leaving some money to be given to the poor of the
parish, and for masses to be said for the repose of
the soul of the dead.

He arrived at home in the evening, found his
wife entertaining some friends; and told them he
had just come from Chartres, where he had been

1581

CELEBRATED CRIMES

summoned on business. Everyone noticed his
unusual air of satisfaction, and he sang several
songs during supper.

Having accomplished these two crimes, Derues
did not remain idle. When the murderer's part of
his nature was at rest, the thief reappeared. His
extreme avarice now made him regret the expense
caused by the deaths of Madame de Lamotte and
her son, and he wished to recoup himself. Two
days after his return from Versailles, he ventured
to present himself at Edouard's school. He told
the master that he had received a letter from
Madame de Lamotte, saying that she wished to
keep her son, and asking him to obtain Edouard's
belongings. The schoolmaster's wife, who was
present, replied that that could not be; that Mon-
sieur de Lamotte would have known of his wife's
intention; that she would not have taken such a
step without consulting him; and that only the
evening before, they had received a present of game
from Buisson-Souef, with a letter in which
Monsieur de Lamotte entreated them to take great
care of his son.

" If what you say is true," she continued,
" Madame de Lamotte is no doubt acting on your
advice in taking away her son. But I will write to
Buisson."

"You had better not do anything in the matter,"
1582

DERUES

said Denies, turning to the schoolmaster. " It is
quite possible that Monsieur de Lamotte does not
know. I am aware that his wife does not always
consult him. She is at Versailles, where I took
Edouard to her, and I will inform her of your
objection."

To insure impunity for these murders, Derues
had resolved on the death of Monsieur de Lamotte;
but before executing this last crime, he wished for
some proof of the recent pretended agreements
between himself and Madame de Lamotte. He
would not wait for the disappearance of the whole
family before presenting himself as the lawful
proprietor of Buisson-Souef. Prudence required
him to shelter himself behind a deed which should
have been executed by that lady. On February
27th he appeared at the office of Madame de
Lamotte's lawyer in the rue du Paon, and, with all
the persuasion of an artful tongue, demanded the
power of attorney on that lady's behalf, saying
that he had, by private contract, just paid a hundred
thousand livres on the total amount of purchase,
which money was now deposited with a notary.
The lawyer, much astonished that an affair of such
importance should have been arranged without any
reference to himself, refused to give up the deed to
anyone but Monsieur or Madame de Lamotte, and
inquired why the latter did not appear herself.

1583

CELEBRATED CRIMES

Derues replied that she was at Versailles, and that
he was to send the deed to her there. He repeated
his request and the lawyer his refusal, until Derues
retired, saying he would find means to compel him
to give up the deed. He actually did, the same
day, present a petition to the civil authority, in
which Cyrano Derues de Bury sets forth arrange-
ments, made with Madame de Lamotte, founded on
the deed given by her husband, and requires per-
mission to seize and withdraw said deed from the
custody in which it remains at present. The peti-
tion is granted. The lawyer objects that he can
only give up the deed to either Monsieur or
Madame de Lamotte, unless he be otherwise
ordered. Derues has the effrontery to again appeal
to the civil authority, but, for the reasons given by
that public officer, the affair is adjourned.

These two futile efforts might have compromised
Derues had they been heard of at Buisson-Souef ;
but everything seemed to conspire in the criminal's
favour: neither the schoolmaster's wife nor the
lawyer thought of writing to Monsieur de Lamotte.
The latter, as yet unsuspecting, was tormented by
other anxieties, and kept at home by illness.

In these days, distance is shortened, and one can
travel from Villeneuve-le-Roi-lez-Sens to Paris in
a few hours. This was not the case in 1777, when
private industry and activity, stifled by routine and

1584

DERUES

privilege, had not yet experienced the need of pro-
viding the means for rapid communication. Half
a day was required to go from the capital to Ver-
sailles; a journey of twenty leagues required at least
two days and a night, and bristled with obstacles
and delays of all kinds. These difficulties of trans-
port, still greater during bad weather, and a long
and serious attack of gout, explain why Monsieur
de Lamotte, who was so ready to take alarm, had
remained separated from his wife from the middle
of December to the end of February. He had
received reassuring letters from her, written at first
with freedom and simplicity; but he thought he
noticed a gradual change in the later ones, which
appeared to proceed more from the mind than the
heart. A style which aimed at being natural was
interspersed with unnecessary expressions of affec-
tion, unusual between married people well assured
of their mutual love. Monsieur de Lamotte
observed and exaggerated these peculiarities, and
though endeavouring to persuade himself that he
was mistaken, he could not forget them, or regain
his usual tranquility. Being somewhat ashamed
of his anxiety, he kept his fears to himself.

One morning, as he was sunk in a large arm-
chair by the fire, his sitting-room door opened, and
the cure entered, who was surprised by his despond-
ent, sad, and pale appearance. " What is the

1585

CELEBRATED CRIMES

matter?" he inquired. "Have you had an extra
bad night ? "

" Yes," answered Monsieur de Lamotte.

" Well, have you any news from Paris ? "

" Nothing for a whole week : it is odd, is it not ? "

" I am always hoping that this sale may fall
through; it drags on for so very long; and I believe
that Monsieur Derues, in spite of what your wife
wrote a month ago, has not as much money as he
pretends to have. Do you know that it is said that
Monsieur Despeignes-Duplessis, Madame Derues'
relative, whose money they inherited, was assassi-
nated?"

" Where did you hear that ? "

" It is a common report in the country, and was
brought here by a man who came recently from
Beauvais."

" Have the murderers been discovered ? "

"Apparently not; justice seems unable to dis-
cover anything at all."

Monsieur de Lamotte hung his head, and his
countenance assumed an expression of painful
thought, as though this news affected him per-
sonally,

" Frankly," resumed the cure, " I believe you will
remain Seigneur du Buisson-Souef, and that I shall
be spared the pain of writing another name over
your seat in the church of Villeneuve."

1586

DERUES

" The affair must be settled in a few days, for I
can wait no longer; if the purchaser be not
Monsieur Derues, it will have to be someone else.
What makes you think he is short of money ? "

" Oh ! oh ! " said the cure, " a man who has
money either pays his debts, or is a cheat. Now
Heaven preserve me from suspecting Monsieur
Derues' honesty 1 "

" What do you know about him? '*

" Do you remember Brother Marchois of the
Camaldulians, who carhe to see me last spring, and
who was here the day Monsieur Derues arrived,
with your wife and Edouard? '*

"Perfectly. Well?"

*' Well, I happened to tell him in one of my
letters that Monsieur Derues had become the pur-
chaser of Buisson-Souef, and that I believed the
arrangements were concluded. Thereupon Brother
Marchois wrote asking me to remind him that he
owes them a sum of eight hundred livres, and that,
so far, they have not seen a penny of it."

" Ah ! " said Monsieur de Lamotte, " perhaps I
should have done better not to let myself be deluded
by his fine promises. He certainly has money on
his tongue, and when once one begins to listen to
him, one can't help doing what he wants. All the
same, I had rather have had to deal with someone
else."

1587

CELEBRATED CRIMES

"And is it this which worries you, and makes you
seem so anxious ? "

" This and other things."

"What, then?"

" I am really ashamed to own it, but I am as
credulous and timid as any old woman. Now do
not laugh at me too much. Do you believe in
dreams ? "

" Monsieur," said the cure, smiling, " you should
never ask a coward whether he is afraid, you only
risk his telling a lie. He will say ' No,' but he
means ' Yes.' "

" And are you a coward, my father ? "

" A little. I don't precisely believe all the nursery
tales, or in the favourable or unfavourable meaning
of some object seen during our sleep, but "

A sound of steps interrupted them, a servant
entered, announcing Monsieur Derues.

On hearing the name, Monsieur de Lamotte felt
troubled in spite of himself, but, overcoming the
impression, he rose to meet the visitor.

" You had better stay," he said to the cure,
who was also rising to take leave. " Stay ; we have
probably nothing to say which cannot be said before
y^u."

Derues entered the room, and, after the usual
compliments, sat down by the fire, opposite Mon-
sieur de Lamotte.

1588

DERUES

" You did not expect me," he said, " and I ought
to apologise for surprising you thus."

" Give me some news of my wife," asked
Monsieur de Lamotte anxiously.

" She has never been better. Your son is also
in perfect health."

" But why are you alone? Why does not Marie
accompany you? It is ten weeks since she went to
Paris."

" She has not yet quite finished the business with
which you entrusted her. Perhaps I am partly the
cause of this long absence, but one cannot transact
business as quickly as one would wish. But you
have no doubt heard from her, that all is finished,
or nearly so, between us. We have drawn up a
second private contract, which annuls the former
agreement, and I have paid over a sum of one
hundred thousand livres."

" I do not comprehend," said Monsieur de
Lamotte. " What can induce my wife not to
inform me of this ? "

" You did not know ? "

" I know nothing. I was wondering just now
with Monsieur le cure why I did not hear from
her."

" Madame de Lamotte was going to write to you,
and I do not know what can have hindered her."

" When did you leave her? "
1589

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" Several days ago. I have not been at Paris ; I
am returning from Chartres. I believed you were
informed of everything."

Monsieur de Lamotte remained silent for some
moments. Then, fixing his eyes upon Derues'
immovable countenance, he said, with some emo-
tion—

" You are a husband and father, sir ; in the name
of this double and sacred affection which is not
unknown to you, do not hide anything from me.
I fear some misfortune has happened to my wife
which you are concealing."

Derues' physiognomy expressed nothing but a
perfectly natural astonishment.

" What can have suggested such ideas to you,
dear sir ? " In saying this he glanced at the cure,
wishing to ascertain if this distrust was Monsieur
de Lamotte's own idea, or had been suggested to
him. The movement was so rapid that neither of
the others observed it. Like all knaves, obliged by
their actions to be continually on the watch, Derues
possessed to a remarkable extent the art of seeing
all round him without appearing to observe any-
thing in particular. He decided that as yet he had
only to combat a suspicion unfounded on proof,
and he waited till he should be attacked more
seriously.

*' I do not know," he said, " what may have hap-
1590

DERUES

pened during my absence; pray explain yourself,
for you are making me share your disquietude."

" Yes, I am exceedingly anxious ; I entreat you,
tell me the whole truth. Explain this silence, and
this absence prolonged beyond all expectation. You
finished your business with Madame de Lamotte
several days ago : once again, why did she not
write? There is no letter, either from her or my
son ! To-morrow I shall send someone to Paris."

"Good heavens!" answered Derues, "is there
nothing but an accident which could cause this
delay? . . . Well, then," he continued, with the
embarrassed look of a man compelled to betray a
confidence, — " well, then, I see that in order to
reassure you, I shall have to give up a secret en^
trusted to me."

He then told Monsieur de Lamotte that his wife
was no longer at Paris, but at Versailles, where she
was endeavouring to obtain an important and lucra-
tive appointment, and that, if she had left him in
ignorance of her efforts in this direction, it was
only to give him an agreeable surprise. He added
that she had removed her son from the school, and
hoped to place him either in the riding school or
amongst the royal pages. To prove his words, he
opened his paper-case, and produced the letter
written by Edouard in answer to the one quoted
above.

1591

CELEBRATED CRIMES

All this was related so simply, and with such an
appearance of good faith, that the cure was quite
convinced. And to Monsieur de Lamotte the plans
attributed to his wife were not entirely improbable.
Derues had learnt indirectly that such a career for
Edouard had been actually under consideration.
However, though Monsieur de Lamotte's entire
ignorance prevented him from making any serious
objection, his fears were not entirely at rest, but
for the present he appeared satisfied with the ex-
planation.

The cure resumed the conversation. " What you
tell us ought to drive away gloomy ideas. Just
now, when you were announced, Monsieur de
Lamotte was confiding his troubles to me. I was
as concerned as he was, and I could say nothing
to help him ; never did visitor arrive more a propos.
Well, my friend, what now remains of your vain
terrors? What was it you were saying just as
Monsieur Derues arrived? . . . Ah! we were dis-
cussing dreams, you asked if I believed in them."

Monsieur de Lamotte, who had sunk back in his
easy-chair and seemed lost in his reflections, started
on hearing these words. He raised his head and
looked again at Derues. But the latter had had
time to note the impression produced by the cure's
remark, and this renewed examination did not
disturb him.

1592

DERUES

" Yes," said Monsieur de Lamotte, " I had asked
that question."

"And I was going to answer that there are cer-
tain secret warnings which can be received by the
soul long before they are intelligible to the bodily
senses — revelations not understood at first, but
which later connect themselves with realities of
which they are in some way the precursors. Do
you agree with me. Monsieur Derues? "

" I have no opinion on such a subject, and must
leave the discussion to more learned people than
myself. I do not know whether such apparitions
really mean anything or not, and I have not sought
to fathom these mysteries, thinking them outside
the realm of human intelligence."

" Nevertheless," said the cure, " we are obliged
to recognise their existence."

" Yes, but without either understanding or ex-
plaining them, like many other eternal truths. I
follow the rule given in the Imitation of Jesus
Christ: ' Beware, my son, of considering too
curiously the things beyond thine intelligence.' "

" And I also submit, and avoid too curious con-
sideration. But has not the soul knowledge of
many wondrous things which we can yet neither
see nor touch? I repeat, there are things which
cannot be denied."

Derues listened attentively, continually on his

1593

CELEBRATED CRIMES

guard; and afraid, he knew not why, of becoming
entangled in this conversation, as in a trap. He
carefully watched Monsieur de Lamotte, whose
eyes never left him. The cure resumed —

" Here is an instance which I was bound to
accept, seeing it happened to myself. I was then
twenty, and my mother lived in the neighbourhood
of Tours, whilst I was at the seminary of Mont-
pellier. After several years of separation, I had
obtained permission to go and see her. I wrote,
telling her of this good news, and I received her
answer — full of joy and tenderness. My brother
and sister were to be informed, it was to be a family
meeting, a real festivity; and I started with a light
and joyous heart. My impatience was so great,
that, having stopped for supper at a village inn
some ten leagues from Tours, I would not wait
till the next morning for the coach which went that
way, but continued the journey on foot and walked
all night. It was a long and difficult road, but
happiness redoubled my strength. About an hour
after sunrise I saw distinctly the smoke and the
village roofs, and I hurried on to surprise my
family a little sooner. I never felt more active,
more light-hearted and gay; everything seemed to
smile before and around me. Turning a corner of
the hedge, I met a peasant whom I recognised. All
at once it seemed as if a veil spread over my sight,

1594

DERUES

all my hopes and joy suddenly vanished, a funereal
idea took possession of me, and I said, taking the
hand of the man, who had not yet spoken —

" ' My mother is dead, I am convinced my mother
is dead ! '

" He hung down his head and answered —

" * She is to be buried this morning ! '

" Now whence came this revelation ? I had seen
no one, spoken to no one; a moment before I had
no idea of it! "

Derues made a gesture of surprise. Monsieur de
Lamotte put his hand to his eyes, and said to the
cure —

" Your presentiments were true ; mine, happily,
are unfounded. But listen, and tell me if in the
state of anxiety which oppressed me I had not good
reason for alarm and for fearing some fatal mis-
fortune."

His eyes again sought Derues. " Towards the
middle of last night I at length fell asleep, but, inter-
rupted every moment, this sleep was more a fatigue
than a rest; I seemed to hear confused noises all
round me. I saw brilliant lights which dazzled me,
and then sank back into silence and darkness.
Sometimes I heard someone weeping near my bed,
again plaintive voices called to me out of the dark-
ness. I stretched out my arms, but nothing met
them, I fought with phantoms; at length a cold

1595

CELEBRATED CRIMES

hand grasped mine and led me rapidly forward.
Under a dark and damp vault a woman lay on the
ground, bleeding, inanimate — it was my wife! At
the same moment, a groan made me look round, and
I beheld a man striking my son with a dagger. I
cried out and awoke, bathed in cold perspiration,
panting under this terrible vision. I was obliged
to get up, walk about, and speak aloud, in order
to convince myself it was only a dream. I tried to
go to sleep again, but the same visions still pursued
me. I saw always the same man armed with two
daggers streaming with blood; I heard always the
cries of his two victims. When day came, I felt
utterly broken, worn-out ; and this morning, you,
my father, could see by my despondency what an
impression this awful night had made upon me."

During this recital Derues' calmness never gave
way for a single moment, and the most skilful
physiognomist could only have discovered an ex-
pression of incredulous curiosity on his countenance.

" Monsieur le cure's story," said he, " impressed
me much ; yours only brings back my uncertainty.
It is less possible than ever to deliver any opinion
on this serious question of dreams, since the second
instance contradicts the first."

" It is true," answered the cure, " no possible
conclusion can be drawn from two facts which
contradict each other, and the best thing we can

1596

DERUES

do is to choose a less dismal subject of con-
versation."

" Monsieur Derues," asked Monsieur de Lamotte,
" if you are not too tired with your journey, shall
we go and look at the last improvements I have
made? It is now your affair to decide upon them,
since I shall shortly be only your guest here."

" Just as I have been yours for long enough, and
I trust you will often give me the opportunity of
exercising hospitality in my turn. But you are ill,
the day is cold and damp; if you do not care to go
out, do not let me disturb you. Had you not better
stay by the fire with Monsieur le cure? For me,
Heaven be thanked ! I require no assistance. I will
look round the park, and come back presently to
tell you what I think. Besides, we shall have plenty
of time to talk about it. With your permission, I
should like to stay two or three days."

" I shall be pleased if you will do so."

Derues went out, sufficiently uneasy in his mind,
both on account of his reception of Monsieur de
Lamotte's fears and of the manner in which the
latter had watched him during the conversation.
He walked quickly up and down the park.

" I have been foolish, perhaps ; I have lost twelve
or fifteen days, and delayed stupidly from fear of
not foreseeing everything. But then, how was I
to imagine that this simple, easily deceived man

1597

CELEBRATED CRIMES

would all at once become suspicious? What a
strange dream! If I had not been on my guard, I
might have been disconcerted. Come, come, I must
try to disperse these ideas and give him something
else to think about."

He stopped, and after a few minutes' considera-
tion turned back towards the house.

As soon as he had left the room. Monsieur de
Lamotte had bent over towards the cure, and had
said —

" He did not show any emotion, did he? "

" None whatever."

" He did not start when I spoke of the man
armed with those two daggers ? "

" No. But put aside these ideas ; you must see
they are mistaken."

" I did not tell everything, my father : this mur-
derer whom I saw in my dream — was Derues him-
self! I know as well as you that it must be a delu-
sion, I saw as well as you did that he remained quite
calm, but, in spite of myself, this terrible dream
haunts me. . . . There, do not listen to me, do not
let me talk about it; it only makes me blush for
myself."

Whilst Derues remained at Buisson-Souef, Mon-
sieur de Lamotte received several letters from his
wife, some from Paris, some from Versailles. She
remarked that her son and herself were perfectly

1598

DERUES

well. The writing was so well imitated that no one
could doubt their genuineness. However, Mon-
sieur de Lamotte's suspicions continually increased
and he ended by making the cure share his fears.
He also refused to go with Derues to Paris, in spite
of the latter's entreaties. Derues, alarmed at the
coldness shown him, left Buisson-Souef, saying that
he intended to take possession about the middle of
spring.

Monsieur de Lamotte was, in spite of himself,
still detained by ill-health. But a new and inex-
plicable circumstance made him resolve to go to
Paris and endeavour to clear up the mystery which
appeared to surround his wife and son. He re-
ceived an unsigned letter in unknown handwriting,
and in which Madame de Lamotte's reputation was
attacked with a kind of would-be reticence, which
hinted that she was an unfaithful wife and that
in this lay the cause of her long absence. Her
husband did not believe this anonymous denuncia-
tion, but the fate of the two beings dearest to him
seemed shrouded in so much obscurity that he
could delay no longer, and started for Paris.

His resolution not to accompany Derues had saved
his life. The latter could not carry out his culmin-
ating crime at Buisson-Souef; it was only in Paris
that his victims would disappear without his being
called to account. Obliged to leave hold of his prey,

1599

CELEBRATED CRIMES

he endeavoured to bewilder him in a labyrinth where
all trace of truth might be lost. Already, as he
had arranged beforehand, he had called calumny
to his help, and prepared the audacious lie which
was to vindicate himself should an accusation fall
upon his head. He had hoped that Monsieur de
Lamotte would fall defenceless into his hands;
but now a careful examination of his position, show-
ing the impossibility of avoiding an explanation
had become inevitable, made him change all his
plans, and compelled him to devise an infernal plot,
so skilfully laid that it bid fair to defeat all human
sagacity.

Monsieur de Lamotte arrived in Paris early in
March. Chance decided that he should lodge in
the rue de la Mortellerie, in a house not far from
the one where his wife's body lay buried. He went
to see Derues, hoping to surprise him, and deter-
mined to make him speak, but found he was not
at home. Madame Derues, whether acting with the
discretion of an accomplice or really ignorant of
her husband's proceedings, could not say where he
was likely to be found. She said that he told her
nothing about his actions, and that Monsieur de
Lamotte must have observed during their stay at
Buisson (which was true) that she never ques-
tioned him, but obeyed his wishes in everything,
and that he had now gone away without saying

1600

DERUES

where he was going. She acknowledged that Ma-
dame de Lamotte had lodged with them for six
weeks, and that she knew that lady had been at
Versailles, but since then she had heard nothing.
All Monsieur de Lamotte's questions, his entreaties,
prayers, or threats, obtained no other answer. He
went to the lawyer in the rue de Paon, to the school-
master, and found the same uncertainty, the same
ignorance. His wife and his son had gone to Ver-
sailles, there the clue ended which ought to guide
his investigations. He went to this town; no one
could give him any information, the very name of
Lamotte was unknown. He returned to Paris,
questioned and examined the people of the quarter,
the proprietor of the Hotel de France, where his
wife had stayed on her former visit; at length,
wearied with useless efforts, he implored help from
Justice. Then his complaints ceased; he was ad-
vised to maintain a prudent silence, and to await
Derues' return.

The latter thoroughly understood that, having
failed to dissipate Monsieur de Lamotte's fears,
there was no longer an instant to lose, and that the
pretended private contract of February 12th would
not of itself prove the existence of Madame de
Lamotte. This is how he employed the time spent
by the unhappy husband in fruitless investigation.

On March 12th, a woman, her face hidden in the
1601

Duuias— Vol. 5— E

CELEBRATED CRIMES

hood of her cloak, or " Theresc," as it was then

called, appeared in the office of Maitre N , a

notary at Lyons. She gave her name as Marie-
Frangoise Perffier, wife of Monsieur Saint-Faust de
Lamotte, but separated, as to goods and estate,
from him. She caused a deed to be drawn up,
authorising her husband to receive the arrears of
thirty thousand livres remaining from the price of
the estate of Buisson-Souef, situated near Ville-
neuve-le-Roi-lez-Sens. The deed was drawn up
and signed by Madame de Lamotte, by the notary,
and one of his colleagues.

This woman was Derues. If we remember that
he only arrived at Buisson February 28th, and re-
mained there for some days, it becomes difficult to
understand how at that period so long a journey
as that from Paris to Lyons could have been accom-
plished with such rapidity. Fear must have given
him wings. We will now explain what use he
intended to make of it, and what fable, a master-
piece of cunning and of lies, he had invented.

On his arrival in Paris he found a summons to
appear before the magistrate of police. He ex-
pected this, and appeared quite tranquil, ready to
answer any questions. Monsieur de Lamotte was
present. It was a formal examination, and the
magistrate first asked why he had left Paris,

" Monsieur," replied Derues, " I have nothing
1602

DERUES

to hide, and none oi my actions need fear the day-
light, but before replying, I should like to under-
stand my position. As a domiciled citizen I have a
right to require this. Will you kindly inform me
why I have been summoned to appear before you,
whether on account of anything personal to myself,
or simply to give information as to something
which may be within my knowledge? "

" You are acquainted with this gentleman, and
cannot therefore be ignorant of the cause of the
present inquiry,"

" I am, nevertheless, quite in ignorance of it."

" Be good enough to answer my question. Why
did you leave Paris? And where have you been? "

" I was absent for business reasons."

" What business ? "

" I shall say no more."

" Take care ! you have incurred serious sus-
picions, and silence will not tend to clear you."

Derues hung down his head with an air of resig-
nation; and Monsieur de Lamotte, seeing in this
attitude a silent confession of crime, exclaimed,
" Wretched man ! what have you done with my
wife and my son? "

" Your son ! " said Derues slowly and with

peculiar emphasis. He again cast down his eyes.

The magistrate conducting the inquiry was
struck by tlie expression of Derues' countenance

1603

CELEBRATED CRIMES

and by this half answer, which appeared to hide
a mystery and to aim at diverting- attention by offer-
ing a bait to curiosity. He might have stopped
Denies at the moment when he sought to plunge
into a tortuous argument, and compelled him to
answ^er with the same clearness and decision which
distinguished Monsieur de Lamotte's question; but
he reflected that the latter's inquiries, unforeseen,
hasty, and passionate, were perhaps more likely to
disconcert a prepared defence than cooler and more
skilful tactics. He therefore changed his plans,
contenting himself for the moment with the part
of an observer only, and watching a duel between
tw^o fairly matched antagonists.

" I require you to tell me what has become of
them," repeated Monsieur de Lamotte. " I have
been to Versailles, you assured me they were
there."

"And I told you the truth, monsieur."
" No one has seen them, no one knows them ;
every trace is lost. Your Honour, this man must
be compelled to answer, he must say what has be-
come of my wife and son! "

" I excuse your anxiety, I understand your
trouble, but w- hy appeal to me ? Why am I supposed
to know what may have happened to them ? "
" Because I confided them to your care."
" As a friend, yes, I agree. Yes, it is quite true
1604

DERUES

that last December I received a letter from you
informing me of the impending arrival of your
vv^ife and son. I received them in my own house,
and showed them the same hospitality which I had
received from you. I saw them both, your son
often, your wife every day, until the day she left
me to go to Versailles. Yes, I also took Edouard
to his mother, who was negotiating an appointment
for him. I have already told you all this, and I
repeat it because it is the truth. You believed me
then : why do you not believe me now ? Why has
what I say become strange and incredible? If your
wife and your son have disappeared, am I respon-
sible? Did you transmit your authority to me?
And now, in what manner are you thus calling me
to account? Is it to the friend who might have
pitied, who might have aided your search, that you
thus address yourself? Have you come to confide
in me, to ask for advice, for consolation? No,
you accuse me; very well! then I refuse to speak,
because, having no proofs, you yet accuse an honest
man ; because your fears, whether real or imaginary,
do not excuse you for casting, I know not what
odious suspicions, on a blameless reputation, because
I have the right to be offended. Monsieur," he con-
tinued, turning to the magistrate, " I believe you
will appreciate my moderation, and will allow me to
retire. If charges are brought against me, I am

1605

CELEBRATED CRIMES

quite ready to meet them, and to show what they
are really worth. I shall remain in Paris, I have
now no business which requires my presence else-
where."

He emphasised these last words, evidently intend-
ing to draw attention to them. It did not escape
the magistrate, who inquired —

"What do you mean by that?"

" Nothing beyond my words, your Honour.
Have I your permission to retire ? "

" No, remain ; you are pretending not to under-
stand."

" I do not understand these insinuations so cov-
ertly made."

Monsieur de Lamotte rose, exclaiming —

" Insinuations ! What more can I say to compel
you to answer? My wife and son have disappeared.
It is untrue that, as you pretend, they have been at
Versailles. You deceived me at Buisson-Souef,
just as you are deceiving me now, as you are
endeavouring to deceive justice by inventing fresh
lies. Where are they? What has become of them?
I am tomiented by all the fears possible to a hus-
band and father; I imagine all the most terrible
misfortunes, and I accuse you to your face of hav-
ing caused their death ! Is this sufficient, or do you
still accuse me of covert insinuations? "

Derues turned to the magistrate. " Is this charge
1606

DERUES

enough to place me in the position of a criminal if
I do not give a satisfactory explanation? "

"Certainly; you should have thought of that
sooner."

" Then," he continued, addressing Monsieur de
Lamotte, " I understand you persist in this odious
accusation ? "

" I certainly persist in it."

" You have forgotten our friendship, broken all
bonds between us : I am in your eyes only a miser-
able assassin? You consider my silence as guilty,
you will ruin me if I do not speak ? '*

" It is true."

" There is still time for reflection ; consider what
you are doing; I will forget your insults and your
anger. Your trouble is great enough without my
reproaches being added to it. But you desire that
I should speak, you desire it absolutely ? '*

" I do desire it."

" Very well, then ; it shall be as you wish."

Derues surveyed Monsieur de Lamotte with a
look which seemed to say, " I pity you." He then
added, with a sigh —

" I am now ready to answer. Your Honour, will
you have the kindness to resume my examination ? "

Derues had succeeded in taking up an advan-
tageous position. If he had begun by narrating
the extraordinary romance he had invented, the

1607

CELEBRATED CRIMES

least penetrating eye must have perceived its im-
probability, and one would have felt it required
some support at every turn. But since he had
resisted being forced to tell it, and apparently only
ceded to Monsieur de Lamotte's violent persistency,
the situation was changed ; and this refusal to speak,
coming from a man who thereby compromised his
personal safety, took the semblance of generosity,
and was likely to arouse the magistrate's curiosity
and prepare his mind for unusual and mysterious
revelations. This was exactly what Derues wanted,
and he awaited the interrogation with calm and
tranquillity.

" Why did you leave Paris ? " the magistrate
demanded a second time.

" I have already had the honour to inform you
that important business necessitated my absence."

" But you refused to explain the nature of this
business. Do you still persist in this refusal ? "

" For the moment, yes. I will explain it later."

" Where have you been ? Whence do you
return?"

" I have been to Lyons, and have returned
thence."

" What took you there ? "

" I will tell you later."

" In the month of December last, Madame de
Lamotte and her son came to Paris ? "

1608

DERUES

" That is so."

" They both lodged in your house ? "

" I have no reason to deny it."

" But neither she herself, nor Monsieur de La-
motte, had at first intended that she should accept
a lodging in the house which you occupied."

" That is quite true. We had important accounts
to settle, and Madame de Lamotte told me after-
wards that she feared some dispute on the question
of money might arise between us — at least, that is
the reason she gave me. She was mistaken, as the
event proved, since I always intended to pay, and I
have paid. But she may have had another reason
which she preferred not to give."

" It was the distrust of this man which she felt,"
exclaimed Monsieur de Lamotte. Derues answered
only with a melancholy smile.

" Silence, monsieur," said the magistrate,
" silence ; do not interrupt." Then addressing
Derues —

" Another motive ? What motive do you sup-
pose? "

" Possibly she preferred to be more free, and
able to receive any visitor she wished."

" What do you mean? "

" It is only supposition on my part, I do not insist
upon it."

" But the supposition appears to contain a hint
1609

CELEBRATED CRIMES

injurious to Madame de Lamotte's reputation?"

" No, oh no ! " replied Derues, after a moment's
silence.

This sort of insinuation appeared strange to the
magistrate, who resolved to try and force Derues
to abandon these treacherous reticences behind
which he sheltered himself. Again recommending
silence to Monsieur de Lamotte, he continued to
question Derues, not perceiving that he was only
following the lead skilfully given by the latter, who
drew him gradually on by withdrawing himself,
and that all the time thus gained was an advantage
to the accused.

" Well," said the magistrate, " whatever Madame
de Lamotte's motives may have been, it ended in
her coming to stay with you. How did you per-
suade her to take this step? "

" My wife accompanied her first to the Hotel de
France, and then to other hotels. I said no more
than might be deemed allowable in a friend ; I could
not presume to persuade her against her will. When
I returned home, I was surprised to find her there
with her son. She could not find a disengaged
room in any of the hotels she tried, and she then
accepted my offer."

" What date was this ? "

" Monday, the i6th of last December."

"And when did she leave your house ? "
1610

DERUES

" On the ist of February."

" The porter cannot remember having seen her
go out on that day."

" That is possible. Madame de Lamotte went
and came as her affairs required. She was known,
and no more attention would be paid to her than to
any other inmate."

" The porter also says that for several days before
this date she was ill, and obliged to keep her room ? "

" Yes, it was a slight indisposition, which had no
results, so slight that it seemed unnecessary to call
in a doctor. Madame de Lamotte appeared preoccu-
pied and anxious. I think her mental attitude
influenced her health."

" Did you escort her to Versailles ? "

" No ; I went there to see her later."

" What proof can you give of her having actually
stayed there ? "

" None whatever, unless it be a letter which I
received from her."

" You told Monsieur de Lamotte that she was
exerting herself to procure her son's admission
either as a king's page or into the riding school.
Now, no one at Versailles has seen this lady, or
even heard of her."

" I only repeated what she told me."

"Where was she staying?"

" I do not know."

1611

CELEBRATED CRIMES

"What! she wrote to you, you went to see her,
and yet you do not know where she w^as lodging?"

" That is so."

" But it is impossible."

" There are many things which would appear
impossible if I were to relate them, but which are
true, nevertheless."

" Explain yourself."

" I only received one letter from Madame de
Lamotte, in which she spoke of her plans for
Edouard, requesting me to send her her son on a
day she fixed, and I told Edouard of her projects.
Not being able to go to the school to see him, I
wrote, asking if he would like to give up his studies
and become a royal page. When I was last at
Buisson-Souef, I showed his answer to Monsieur
de Lamotte; it is here."

And he handed over a letter to the magistrate, who
read it, and passing it on to Monsieur de Lamotte,
inquired —

" Did you then, and do you now, recognise your
son's handwriting?"

" Perfectly, monsieur."

" You took Edouard to Versailles ? "

" I did."

"On what day?"

"February nth. Shrove Tuesday. It is the only
time I have been to Versailles. The contrary might

1612

DERUES

be supposed ; for I have allowed it to be understood
that I have often seen Madame de Lamotte since
she left my house, and was acquainted with all her
actions, and that the former confidence and friend-
ship still existed between us. In allowing this, I
have acted a lie, and transgressed the habitual sin-
cerity of my whole life."

This assertion produced a bad impression on the
magistrate. Derues perceived it, and to avert evil
consequences, hastened to add —

" My conduct can only be appreciated when it is
known in entirety. I misunderstood the meaning
of Madame de Lamotte's letter. She asked me to
send her her son, I thought to oblige her by accom-
panying him, and not leaving him to go alone. So
we travelled together, and arrived at Versailles
about midday. As I got down from the coach I
saw Madame de Lamotte at the palace gate, and
observed, to my astonishment, that my presence
displeased her. She was not alone."

He stopped, although he had evidently reached
the most interesting point of his story.

" Go on," said the magistrate ; " why do you
stop now? "

" Because what I have to say is so painful —
not to me, who have to justify myself, but for
others, that I hesitate."

"Go on."

1613

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" Will you then interrogate me, please ? "

"Well, what happened in this interview?"

Derues appeared to collect himself for a moment,
and then said with the air of a man who has decided
on speaking out at last —

" Madame de Lamotte was not alone ; she was
attended by a gentleman whom I did not know,
whom I never saw either at Buisson-Souef or in
Paris, and whom I have never seen again since.
I will ask you to allow me to recount everything,
even to the smallest details. This man's face struck
me at once, on account of a singular resemblance;
he paid no attention to me at first, and I was able
to examine him at leisure. His manners were
those of a man belonging to the highest classes of
society, and his dress indicated wealth. On seeing
Edouard, he said to Madame de Lamotte —

" 'So this is he? ' and he then kissed him tenderly.
This and the marks of undisguised pleasure which
he evinced surprised me, and I looked at Madame
de Lamotte, who then remarked with some
asperity —

" T did not expect to see you, Monsieur Derues.
I had not asked you to accompany my son.'

" Edouard seemed quite as much surprised as I
was. The stranger gave me a look of haughty
annoyance, but seeing I did not avoid his glance
his countenance assumed a more gentle expression,

1614

' DERUES

and Madame de Lamotte introduced him as a
person who took great interest in Edouard."

"It is a whole tissue of imposture!" exclaimed
Monsieur de Lamotte.

" Allow me to finish," answered Derues. " I
understand your doubts, and that you are not
anxious to believe what I say, but I have been
brought here by legal summons to tell the truth,
and I am going to tell it. You can then weigh the
two accusations in the balance, and choose between
them. The reputation of an honourable man is as
sacred, as important, as worthy of credit as the
reputation of a woman, and I never heard that the
virtue of the one was more fragile than that of
the other."

Monsieur de Lamotte, thunderstruck by such a
revelation, could not contain his impatience and
indignation.

" This, then," he said, " is the explanation of an
anonymous letter which I received, and of the
injurious suggestions concerning my wife's honour
which it contained; it was written to give an
appearance of probability to this infamous legend.
The whole thing is a disgraceful plot, and no doubt
Monsieur Derues wrote the letter himself."

" I know nothing about it," said Derues uncon-
cernedly, " and the explanation which you profess
to find in it I should rather refer to something else

1615

CELEBRATED CRI^MES

I am going to mention. I did not know a secret
warning had been sent to you : I now learn it from
you, and I understand perfectly that such a letter
may have been written. But that you have received
such a warning ought surely to be a reason for
listening patiently and not denouncing all I say as
imposture."

While saying this Derues mentally constructed
the fresh falsehood necessitated by the interruption,
but no variation of countenance betrayed his
thought. He had an air of dignity natural to his
position. He saw that, in spite of clearheadedness
and long practice in studying the most deceptive
countenances, the magistrate so far had not scented
any of his falsehoods, and was getting bewildered
in the windings of this long narrative, through
which Derues led him as he chose; and he resumed
with confidence —

" You know that I made Monsieur de Lamotte's
acquaintance more than a year ago, and I had
reason to believe his friendship as sincere as my
own. As a friend, I could not calmly accept the
suspicion which then entered my mind, nor could I
conceal my surprise. Madame de Lamotte saw
this, and understood from my looks that I was
not satisfied with the explanation she wished me
to accept. A glance of intelligence passed between
her and her friend, who was still holding Edouard's

1616

DERUES

hand. The day, though cold, was fine, and she
proposed a walk in the park. I offered her my
arm, and the stranger walked in front with
Edouard. We had a short conversation, which has
remained indelibly fixed in my memory.

" * Why did you come ? ' she inquired.

" I did not answer, but looked sternly at her, in
order to discompose her. At length I said —

" * You should have written, madame, and
■warned me that my coming would be indiscreet.'

" She seemed much disconcerted, and exclaimed —

" ' I am lost ! I see you guess everything, and
will tell my husband. I am an unhappy woman,
and a sin once committed can never be erased from
the pages of a woman's life! Listen, Monsieur
Derues, listen, I implore you ! You see this man,
I shall not tell you who he is, I shall not give
his name . . . but I loved him long ago; I should
have been his wife, and had he not been compelled
to leave France, I should have married no one
else.' "

Monsieur de Lamotte started, and grew pale.

" What is the matter? " the magistrate inquired.

"Oh! this dastardly wretch is profiting by his
knowledge of secrets which a long intimacy has
enabled him to discover. Do not believe him, I
entreat you, do not believe him ! "

Derues resumed. " Madame de Lamotte con-
1617

CELEBRATED CRIMES

tinned : * I saw him again sixteen years ago, always
in hiding, always proscribed. To-day he reappears
under a name which is not his own : he wishes to
link my fate with his; he has insisted on seeing
Edouard. But I shall escape him. I have invented
this fiction of placing my son among the royal
pages to account for my stay here. Do not contra-
dict me, but help me; for a little time ago I met
one of Monsieur de Lamotte's friends, I am afraid
he suspected something. Say you have seen me
several times; as you have come, let it be known
that you brought Edouard here. I shall return to
Buisson as soon as possible, but will you go first,
see my husband, satisfy him if he is anxious? I
am in your hands; my honour, my reputation, my
very life, are at your mercy; you can either ruin or
help to save me. I may be guilty, but I am not
corrupt. I have wept for my sin day after day,
and I have already cruelly expiated it.' "

This execrable calumny was not related without
frequent interruptions on the part of Monsieur de
Lamotte. He was, however, obliged to own to
himself that it was quite true that Marie Perier
had really been promised to a man whom an un-
lucky affair had driven into exile, and whom he
had supposed to be dead. This revelation, coming
from Derues, who had the strongest interest in
lying, by no means convinced him of his wife's

1618

DERUES

dishonour, nor destroyed the feelings of a husband
and father; but Derues was not speaking for him
alone, and what appeared incredible to Monsieur
de Lamotte might easily seem less improbable to
the colder and less interested judgment of the
magistrate.

" I was wrong," Derues continued, " in allowing
myself to be touched by her tears, wrong in believ-
ing in her repentance, more wrong still in going to
Buisson to satisfy her husband. But I only con-
sented on conditions : Madame de Lamotte prom-
ised me to return shortly to Paris, vowing that her
son should never know the truth, and that the rest
of her life should be devoted to atoning for her sin
by a boundless devotion. She then begged me to
leave her, and told me she would write to me at
Paris to fix the day of her return. This is what
happened, and this is why I went to Buisson and
gave my support to a lying fiction. With one word
I might have destroyed the happiness of seventeen
years. I did not wish to do so. I believed in the
remorse; I believe in it still, in spite of all appear-
ances; I have refused to speak this very day, and
made every effort to prolong an illusion which I
know it will be terrible to lose."

There was a moment of silence. This fable, so
atrociously ingenious, was simply and impressively
narrated, and with an air of candour well con-

1619

CELEBRATED CRIMES

trived to impose on the magistrate, or, at least, to
suggest grave doubts to his mind. Derues, with
his usual cunning, had conformed his language to
the quality of his listener. Any tricks, professions
of piety, quotations from sacred books, so largely
indulged in when he wished to bamboozle people
of a lower class, would here have told against him.
He knew when to abstain, and carried the art of
deception far enough to be able to lay aside the
appearance of hypocrisy. He had described all the
circumstances without affectation, and if this unex-
pected accusation was wholly unproved, it yet rested
on a possible fact, and did not appear absolutely
incredible. The magistrate went through it all
again, and made him repeat every detail, without
being able to make him contradict himself or show
the smallest embarrassment. While interrogating
Derues, he kept his eyes fixed upon him; and this
double examination being quite fruitless, only
increased his perplexity. However, he never
relaxed the incredulous severity of his demeanour,
nor the imperative and threatening tone of his
voice.

"You acknowledge having been at Lyons?" he
asked.

" I have been there."

" At the beginning of this examination you said
you would explain the reason of this journey later."

1620

DERUES

" I am ready to do so, for the journey is con-
nected with the facts I have just narrated; it was
caused by them."

" Explain it."

" I again ask permission to relate fully. I did
not hear from Versailles : I began to fear Monsieur
de Lamotte's anxiety would bring him to Paris.
Bound by the promise I had made to his wife to
avert all suspicion and to satisfy any doubts he
might conceive, and, must I add, also remembering
that it was important for me to inform him of our
new arrangements, and of this payment of a hun-
dred thousand livres "

" That payment is assuredly fictitious," inter-
rupted Monsieur de Lamotte ; " we must have some
proof of it."

" I will prove it presently," answered Derues.
" So I went to Buisson, as I have already told you.
On my return I found a letter from Madame de
Lamotte, a letter with a Paris stamp, which had
arrived that morning. I was surprised that she
should write, when actually in Paris; I opened the
letter, and was still more surprised. I have not
the letter with me, but I recollect the sense of it
perfectly, if not the wording, and I can produce it
if necessary. Madame de Lamotte was at Lyons
with her son and this person whose name I do not
know, and whom I do not care to mention before

1621

CELEBRATED CRIMES *

her husband. She had confided this letter to a
person who was coming to Paris, and who was to
bring it me; but this individual, whose name was
Marquis, regretted that having to start again imme-
diately, he was obliged to entrust it to the post.
This is the sense of its contents. Madame de Lamotte
wrote that she found herself obliged to follow this
nameless person to Lyons; and she begged me to
send her news of her husband and of the state of
his affairs, but said not one single word of any
probable return. I became very uneasy at the news
of this clandestine departure. I had no security
except a private contract annulling our first agree-
ment on the payment of one hundred thousand
livres, and that this was not a sufficient and regular
receipt I knew, because the lawyer had already
refused to surrender Monsieur de Lamotte's power
of attorney. I thought over all the difficulties which
this fiight, which would have to be kept secret, was
likely to produce, and I started for Lyons without
writing or giving any notice of my intention. I
had no information, I did not even know whether
Madame de Lamotte was passing by another name,
as at Versailles, but chance decreed that I met her
the very day of my arrival. She was alone, and
complained bitterly of her fate, saying she had
been compelled to follow this individual to Lyons,
but that very soon she would be free and would

1622

DERUES

return to Paris. But I was struck by the uncertainty
o£ her manner, and said I should not leave her
without obtaining a deed in proof of our recent
arrangements. She refused at first, saying it was
unnecessary, as she would so soon return; but I
insisted strongly. I told her I had already com-
promised myself by telling Monsieur de Lamotte
that she was at Versailles, endeavouring to procure
an appointment for her son; that since she had
been compelled to come to Lyons, the same person
might take her elsewhere, so that she might disap-
pear any day, might leave France without leaving
any trace, without any written acknowledgment of
her own dishonour; and that when all these false-
hoods were discovered, I should appear in the
light of an accomplice. I said also that, as she had
unfortunately lodged in my house in Paris, and had
requested me to remove her son from his school,
explanations would be required from me, and
perhaps I should be accused of tliis double disap-
pearance. Finally, I declared that if she did not
give me some proofs of her existence, willingly or
unwillingly, I would go at once to a magistrate.
My firmness made her reflect. * My good Monsieur
Derues,' she said, * I ask your forgiveness for all
the trouble I have caused you. I will give you this-
deed to-morrow, to-day it is too late; but come to
this same place to-morrow, and you shall see me

1623

CELEBRATED CRIMES

again.' I hesitated, I confess, to let her go. * Ah,*
she said, grasping my hands, 'do not suspect me
of intending to deceive you ! I swear that I will
meet you here at four o'clock. It is enough that I
have ruined myself, and perhaps my son, without
also entangling you in my unhappy fate. Yes, you
are right, this deed is important, necessary for you,
and you shall have it. But do not show yourself
here; if you were seen, I might not be able to do
what I ought to do. To-morrow you shall see me
again, I swear it.' She then left me. The next
day, the 12th of March, I was exact at the ren-
dezvous, and Madame de Lamotte arrived a
moment later. She gave me a deed, authorising
her husband to receive the arrears of thirty thou-
sand livres remaining from the purchase-money of
Buisson-Souef. I endeavoured again to express my
opinion of her conduct; she listened in silence, as
if my words affected her deeply. We were walking
together, when she told me she had some business
in a house we were passing, and asked me to wait
for her. I waited more than an hour, and then
discovered that this house, like many others in
Lyons, had an exit in another street : and I under-
stood that Madame de Lamotte had escaped by
this passage, and that I might wait in vain. Con-
cluding that trying to follow her would be useless,
and seeing also that any remonstrance would be

1624

DERUES

made in vain, I returned to Paris, deciding to say
nothing as yet, and to conceal the truth as long as
possible. I still had hopes, and I did not count on
being so soon called on to defend myself : I thought
that when I had to speak, it would be as a friend,
and not as an accused person. This, sir, is the
explanation of my conduct, and I regret that this
justification, so easy for myself, should be so
cruelly painful for another. You have seen the
efforts which I made to defer it."

Monsieur de Lamotte had heard this second part
of Derues' recital with a more silent indignation,
not that he admitted its probability, but he was
confounded by this monstrous imposture, and, as it
were, terror-stricken by such profound hypocrisy.
His mind revolted at the idea of his wife being
accused of adultery; but while he repelled this
charge with decision, he saw the confirmation of
his secret terrors and presentiments, and his heart
sank within him at the prospect of exploring this
abyss of iniquity. He was pale, gasping for breath,
as though he himself had been the criminal, while
scorching tears furrowed his cheeks. He tried to
speak, but his voice failed ; he wanted to fling back
at Derues the names of traitor and assassin, and he
was obliged to bear in silence the look of mingled
grief and pity which the latter bestowed upon him.

The magistrate, calmer, and master of his emo-
1625

CELEBRATED CRIMES

tions, bui tolerably bewildered in this labyrinth of
cleverly connected lies, thought it desirable to ask
some further questions.

" How," said he, " did you obtain this sum of a
hundred thousand livres which you say you paid
over to Madame de Lamotte?"

" I have been engaged in business for several
years, and have acquired some fortune."

" Nevertheless, you have postponed the obliga-
tion of making this payment several times, so that
Monsieur de Lamotte had begun to feel uneasiness
on the subject. This was the chief reason of his
wife's coming to Paris."

" One sometimes experiences momentary diffi-
culties, which presently disappear."

" You say you have a deed given you at Lyons
by Madame de Lamotte, which you were to give to
her husband ? "

" It is here "

The magistrate examined the deed carefully, and
noted the name of the lawyer in whose office it
had been drawn up.

" You may go," he said at last.

" What ! " exclaimed Monsieur de Lamotte,

Derues stopped, but the magistrate signed to him
to go, intimating, however, that he was on no
account to leave Paris.

" But," said Monsieur de Lamotte, when they
1626

DERUES

were alone, " this man is indeed guilty. My wife
has not betrayed me! She! — forget her duties as
a wife! she was virtue incarnate! Ah! I assure
you these terrible calumnies are invented to conceal
a double crime! I throw myself at your feet, — I
implore your justice! "

" Rise, monsieur. This is only a preliminary
examination, and I confess that, so far, he comes
well out of it, for imagination can hardly under-
stand such a depth of deceit. I watched him closely
the whole time, and I could discover no sign of
alarm, no contradiction, in either face or language;
if guilty, he must be the greatest hypocrite that
ever existed. But I shall neglect nothing: if a
criminal is allowed to flatter himself with impunity,
he frequently forgets to be prudent, and I have seen
many betray themselves when they thought they
had nothing to fear. Patience, and trust to the
justice of both God and man."

Several days passed, and Derues flattered him-
self the danger was over: his every action mean-
while was most carefully watched, but so that he
remained unaware of the surveillance. A police
officer named Mutel, distinguished for activity and
intelligence beyond his fellows, was charged with
collecting information and following any trail. All
his bloodhounds were in action, and hunted Paris
thoroughly, but could trace nothing bearing on the

1627

CELEBRATED CRIMES

fate of Madame de Lamotte and her son. Mutel,
however, soon discovered that in the rue Saint
Victor, Derues had failed three successive times,
that he had been pursued by numerous creditors,
and been often near imprisonment for debt, and
that in 1771 he had been pubHcly accused of incen-
diarism. He reported on these various circum-
stances, and then went himself to Derues' abode,
where he obtained no results. Madame Derues
declared that she knew nothing whatever, and the
police, having vainly searched the whole house, had
to retire. Derues himself was absent; when he
returned he found another order to appear before
the magistrate.

His first success had encouraged him. He
appeared before the magistrate accompanied by
a lawyer and full of confidence, complaining loudly
that the police, in searching during his absence, had
offended against the rights of a domiciled burgess,
and ought to have awaited his return. Affecting
a just indignation at Monsieur de Lamotte's con-
duct towards him, he presented a demand that the
latter should be declared a calumniator, and should
pay damages for the injury caused to his reputation.
But this time his effrontery and audacity were of
little avail, the magistrate easily detected him in
flagrant lies. He declared at first that he had paid
the hundred thousand livres with his own money

1628

DERUES

but when reminded of his various bankruptcies, the
claims of his creditors, and the judgments obtained
against him as an insolvent debtor, he made a com-
plete volte-face, and declared he had borrowed the
money from an advocate named Duclos, to whom
he had given a bond in presence of a notary. In
spite of all his protestations, the magistrate com-
mitted him to solitary confinement at Fort I'fiveque.
As yet, nothing was publicly known; but vague
reports and gossip, carried from shop to shop,
circulated among the people, and began to reach
the higher classes of society. The infallible instinct
which is aroused among the masses is truly marvel-
lous; a great crime is committed, which seems at
first likely to defeat justice, and the public con-
science is aroused. Long before the tortuous folds
which envelop the mystery can be penetrated, while
it is still sunk in profound obscurity, the voice of
the nation, like an excited hive, buzzes around the
secret; though the magistrates doubt, the public
curiosity fixes itself, and never leaves go; if the
criminal's hiding-place is changed, it follows the
track, points it out, descries it in the gloom. This
is what happened on the news of Derues' arrest.
The affair was everywhere discussed, although the
information was incomplete, reports inexact, and
no real publicity to be obtained. The romance
which Derues had invented by way of defence, and

1629

CELEBRATED CRIMES

which became known as well as Monsieur de
Lamotte's accusation, obtained no credence what-
ever ; on the contrary, all the reports to his discredit
were eagerly adopted. As yet, no crime could be
traced, but the public presentiment divined an
atrocious one. Have we not often seen similar
agitations? The names of Bastide, of Castaing, oi.
Papavoine, had hardly been pronounced before they
completely absorbed all the public attention, and
this had to be satisfied, light had to be thrown on
the darkness: society demanded vengeance,

Derues felt some alarm in his dungeon, but his
presence of mind and his dissimulation in no wise
deserted him, and he swore afresh every day to the
truth of his statements. But his last false assertion
turned against him: the bond for a hundred thou-
sand livres which he professed to have given to
Duclos was a counterfeit which Duclos had an-
nulled by a sort of counter declaration made the
same day. Another circumstance, intended to
ensure his safety, only redoubled suspicion. On
April 8th, notes payable to order to the amount
of seventy-eight thousand livres, were received by
Monsieur de Lamotte's lawyer, as if coming from
Madame de Lamotte. It appeared extraordinary
that these notes, which arrived in an ordinary
stamped envelope, should not be accompanied by
any letter of advice, and suspicion attached to

1630

DERUES

Madame Denies, who hitherto had remained un-
noticed. An inquiry as to where the packet had
been posted soon revealed the office, distinguished
by a letter of the alphabet, and the postmaster
described a servant-maid who had brought the
letter and paid for it. The description resembled
the Derues' servant; and this gid, much alarmed,
acknowledged, after a great deal of hesitation, that
she had posted the letter in obedience to her
mistress's orders. Whereupon Madame Derues
was sent as a prisoner to Fort I'fiveque, and her hus-
band transferred to the Grand-Chatelet. On being
interrogated, she at length owned that she had sent
these notes to Monsieur de Lamotte's lawyer, and
that her husband had given them her in an envelope
hidden in the soiled linen for which she had brought
him clean in exchange.

All this certainly amounted to serious presump-
tive evidence of guilt, and if Derues had shown
himself to the multitude, which followed every
phase of the investigation with increasing anxiety,
a thousand arms would have willingly usurped the
office of the executioner; but the distance thence to
actual proof of murder was enormous for the
magistracy. Derues maintained his tranquillity,
always asserting that Madame de Lamotte and her
son were alive, and would clear him by their reap-
pearance. Neither threats nor stratagems suc-

1631

CELEBRATED CRIMES

ceeded in making him contradict himself, and his
assurance shook the strongest conviction. A new
difficulty was added to so much uncertainty.

A messenger had been sent off secretly with all
haste to Lyons; his return was awaited for a test
which it was thought would be decisive.

One morning Derues was fetched from his prison
and taken to a lower hall of the Conciergerie. He
received no answers to the questions addressed to
his escort, and this silence showed him the necessity
of being on his guard and preserving his imper-
turbable demeanour whatever might happen. On
arriving, he found the commissioner of police,
Mutel, and some other persons. The hall being
very dark, had been illuminated with several
torches, and Derues was so placed that the light
fell strongly on his face, and was then ordered to
look towards a particular part of the hall. As he
did so, a door opened, and a man entered. Derues
beheld him with indifference, and seeing that the
stranger was observing him attentively, he bowed
to him as one might bow to an unknown person
whose curiosity seems rather unusual.

It was impossible to detect the slightest trace of
emotion, a hand placed on his heart would not have
felt an increased pulsation, yet this stranger's recog-
nition would be fatal!

Mutel approached the new-comer and whispered —
1632

\

DERUES

" Do you recognise him ? "

" No, I do not."

" Have the kindness to leave the room for a
moment; we will ask you to return immediately."

This individual was the lawyer in whose office at
Lyons the deed had been drawn up which Derues
had signed, disguised as a woman, and under the
name of Marie-Fran^oise Perier, wife of the Sieur
de Lamotte.

A woman's garments were brought in, and Derues
was ordered to put them on, which he did readily,
affecting much amusement. As he was assisted to
disguise himself, he laughed, stroked his chin and
assumed mincing airs, carrying effrontery so far as
to ask for a mirror.

" I should like to see if it is becoming," he said;
" perhaps I might make some conquests."

The lawyer returned : Derues was made to pass
before him, to sit at a table, sign a paper, in fact
to repeat everything it was imagined he might have
said or done in the lawyer's office. This second
attempt at identification succeeded no better than
the first. The lawyer hesitated; then, understand-
ing all the importance of his deposition, he refused
to swear to anything, and finally declared that this
was not the person who had come to him at Lyons.

" I am sorry, sir," said Derues, as they removed
him, " that you should have been troubled by hav-

1633

Dumas — ^Vol. 5 — F

CELEBRATED CRIMES

ing to witness this absurd comedy. Do not blame
me for it; but ask Heaven to enlighten those who
do not fear to accuse me. As for me, knowing that
my innocence will shortly be made clear, I pardon
them henceforth."

Although justice at this period was generally
expeditious, and the lives of accused persons were
by no means safe-guarded as they now are, it was
impossible to condemn Derues in the absence of any
positive proofs of guilt. He knew this, and waited
patiently in his prison for the moment when he
should triumph over tlie capital accusation which
weighed against him. The storm no longer thun-
dered over his head, the most terrible trials were
passed, the examinations became less frequent, and
there were no more surprises to dread. The lamen-
tations of Monsieur de Lamotte went to the hearts
of the magistrates, but his certainty could not estab-
lish theirs, and they pitied, but could not avenge
him. In certain minds a sort of reaction favourable
to the prisoner began to set in. Among the dupes
of Derues' seeming piety, many who at first held
their peace under these crushing accusations re-
turned to their former opinion. The bigots and
devotees, all who made a profession of kneeling
in the churches, of publicly crossing themselves and
dipping their fingers in the holy water, and who
lived on cant and repetitions of " Amen " and

1634

\

DERUES

"Alleluia," talked of persecution, of martyrdom,
until Derues nearly became a saint destined by the
Almighty to find canonisation in a dungeon. Hence
arose quarrels and arguments; and this abortive
trial, this unproved accusation, kept the public
imagination in a constant ferment.

To the greater part of those who talk of the
" Supreme Being," and who expect His intervention
in human affairs, " Providence " is only a word,
solemn and sonorous, a sort of theatrical machine
which sets all right in the end, and which they glo-
rify with a few banalities proceeding from the lips,
but not from the heart. It is true that this unknown
and mysterious Cause which we call " God " or
" Chance " often appears so exceedingly blind and
deaf that one may be permitted to wonder whether
certain crimes are really set apart for punishment,
when so many others apparently go scot-free. How
many murders remain buried in the night of the
tomb ! how many outrageous and avowed crimes have
slept peacefully in an insolent and audacious pros-
perity! We know the names of many criminals, but
who can tell the number of unknown and forgotten
victims? The history of humanity is twofold,
and like that of the invisible world, which contains
marvels unexplored by the science of the visible
one, the history recounted in books is by no means
the most curious and strange. But without delay-

1635

CELEBRATED CRIMES

ing over questions such as these, without protesting
here against sophistries which cloud the conscience
and hide the presence of an avenging Deity, we
leave the facts to the general judgment, and have
now to relate the last episode in this long and ter-
rible drama.

Of all the populous quarters of Paris which com-
mented on the " affaire Derues," none showed more
excitement than that of the Greve, and amongst all
the surrounding streets none could boast more
numerous crowds than the rue de la Mortellerie.
Not that a secret instinct magnetised the crowd in
the very place where the proof lay buried, but that
each day its attention was aroused by a painful
spectacle. A pale and grief-stricken man, whose
eyes seemed quenched in tears, passed often down
the street, hardly able to drag himself along; it was
Monsieur de Lamotte, who lodged, as we have said,
in the rue de la Mortellerie, and who seemed like
a spectre wandering round a tomb. The crowd
made way and uncovered before him, everybody
respected such terrible misfortune, and when he
had passed, the groups formed up again, and con-
tinued discussing the mystery until nightfall.

On April 17th, about four in the afternoon, a
score of workmen and gossiping women had col-
lected in front of a shop. A stout woman, standing
on the lowest step, like an orator in the tribune, held

1636

DERUES

forth and related for the twentieth time what she
knew, or rather, did not know. There were listen-
ing ears and gaping mouths, even a slight shudder
ran through the group ; for the widow Masson, dis-
covering a gift of eloquence at the age of sixty,
contrived to mingle great warmth and much indig-
nation in her recital. All at once silence fell on the
crowd, and a passage was made for Monsieur de
Lamotte. One man ventured to ask —

" Is there anything fresh to-day ? "

A sad shake of the head was the only answer, and
the unhappy man continued his way.

" Is that Monsieur de Lamotte ? " inquired a par-
ticularly dirty woman, whose cap, stuck on the side
of her head, allowed locks of grey hair to straggle
from under it. " Ah ! is that Monsieur de
Lamotte ? "

" Dear me ! " said a neighbour, " don't you know
him by this time? He passes every day."

" Excuse me ! I don't belong to this quarter, and
— no offence — but it is not so beautiful as to bring
one out of curiosity! Nothing personal — but it is
rather dirty."

" Madame is probably accustomed to use a
carriage."

" That would suit you better than me, my dear,
and would save your having to buy shoes to keep
your feet off the ground!"

1637

CELEBRATED CRIMES

The crowd seemed inclined to hustle the speaker,
but—

"Wait a moment!" she continued, "I didn't
mean to offend anyone. I am a poor woman, but
there's no disgrace in that, and I can afford a glass
of liqueur. Eh, good gossip, you understand, don't
you ? A drop of the best for Mother Maniffret, and
if my fine friend there will drink with me to settle
our difference, I will stand her a glass."

The example set by the old hawker was con-
tagious, and instead of filling two little glasses only,
widow Masson dispensed a bottle ful.

" Come, you have done well," cried Mother
Maniffret; " my idea has brought you luck."

" Faith! not before it was wanted, either! "

" What ! are you complaining of trade too ? "

" Ah ! don't mention it ; it is miserable ! "

" There's no trade at all. I scream myself
hoarse all day, and choke myself for twopence half-
penny. I don't know what's to come of it all. But
you seem to have a nice little custom."

" What's the good of that, with a whole house on
one's hands ? It's just my luck ; the old tenants go,
and the new ones don't come."

" What's the matter, then? "

" I think the devil's in it. There was a nice man
on the first floor — gone; a decent family on the
third, all right except that the man beat his wife

1638

DERUES

every night, and made such a row that no one
could sleep — gone also. I put up notices — no one
even looks at them! A few months ago — it was
the middle of December, the day of the last exe-
cution '*

" The 15th, then," said the hawker. " I cried it,
so I know; it's my trade, that."

"Very well, then, the 15th," resumed widow
Masson. " On that day, then, I let the cellar to a
man who said he was a wine merchant, and who
paid a term in advance, seeing that I didn't know
him, and wouldn't have lent him a farthing on the
strength of his good looks. He was a little bit of
a man, no taller than that," — contemptuously hold-
ing out her hand, — " and he had two round eyes
which I didn't like at all. He certainly paid, he did
that, but we are more than half through the second
term and I have no news of my tenant."

" And have you never seen him since ? "

" Yes, once — no, twice. Let's see — three times,
I am sure. He came with a hand-cart and a com-
missionaire, and had a big chest taken downstairs —
a case which he said contained wine in bottles. . . .
No, he came before that, with a workman, I think.
. Really, I don't know if it was before or after
— doesn't matter. Anyhow, it was bottled wine.
The third time he brought a mason, and I am sure
they quarreled. I heard their voices. He carried

1639

CELEBRATED CRIMES

off the key, and I have seen neither him nor his wine
again. I have another key, and I went down one
day; perhaps the rats have drunk the wine and
eaten the chest, for there certainly is nothing there
any more than there is in my hand now. Neverthe-
less, I saw what I saw. A big chest, very big, quite
new, and corded all round with strong rope."

" Now, what day was that? " asked the hawker.

" What day ? Well, it was — no, I can't remem-
ber."

" Nor I either ; I am getting stupid. Let's have
another little glass — shall we? just to clear our
memories ! "

The expedient was not crowned with success, the
memories failed to recover themselves. The crowd
waited, attentive, as may be supposed. Suddenly
the hawker exclaimed —

" What a fool I am! I am going to find that, if
only I have still got it."

She felt eagerly in the pocket of her underskirt,
and produced several pieces of dirty, crumpled
paper. As she unfolded one after another, she
asked —

" A big chest, wasn't it ? "

" Yes, very big."

" And quite new ? "

" Quite new."

"And corded?"

1640

DERUES

" Yes, I can see it now."

" So can I, good gracious ! It was the day when
I sold the history of Leroi de VaHnes, the ist of
February,"

" Yes, it was a Saturday ; the next day was
Sunday."

. "That's it, that's it! — Saturday, February ist.
Well, I know that chest too! I met your wine
merchant on the Place du Louvre, and he wasn't
precisely enjoying himself: one of his creditors
wanted to seize the chest, the wine, the whole kettle
of fish ! A little man, isn't he ? — a scarecrow ? "

" Just so."

"And has red hair?"

" That's the man."

"And looks a hypocrite ? "

" You've hit it exactly."

" And he is a hypocrite ! enough to make one
shudder! No doubt he can't pay his rent! A thief,
my dears, a beggarly thief, who set fire to his own
cellar, and who accused me of trying to steal from
him, while it was he who cheated me, the villain,
out of a piece of twenty- four sous. It's lucky I
turned up here! Well, well, we shall have some
fun ! Here's another little business on your hands,
and you will have to say where that wine has got
to, my dear gossip Derues."

" Derues ! " cried twenty voices all at once.
1641

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" What ! Derues who is in prison ? "
" Why, that's Monsieur de Lamotte's man."
" The man who killed Madame de Lamotte ? "
" The man who made away with her son ? "
" A scoundrel, my dears, who accused me of
stealing, an absolute monster ! "

" It is just a little unfortunate," said widow
Masson, " that it isn't the man. My tenant calls
himself Ducoudray. There^s his name on the
register."

" Confound it, that doesn't look like it at all,"
said the hawker : " now that's a bore ! Oh yes, I
have a grudge against that thief, who accused me
of stealing. I told him I should sell his history
some day. When that happens, I'll treat you all
round."

As a foretaste of the fulfilment of this promise,
the company disposed of a second bottle of liqueur,
and, becoming excited, they chattered at random
for some time, but at length slowly dispersed, and
the street relapsed into the silence of night. But,
a few hours later, the inhabitants were surprised to
see the two ends occupied by unknown people, while
other sinister-looking persons patrolled it all night,
as if keeping guard. The next morning a carriage
escorted by police stopped at the widow Masson's
door. An officer of police got out and entered a
neighbouring house, whence he emerged a quarter

1642

DERUES

of an hour later with Monsieur de Lamotte leaning
on his arm. The officer demanded the key of the
cellar which last December had been hired from the
widow Masson by a person named Ducoudray, and
went down to it with Monsieur de Lamotte and one
of his subordinates.

The carriage standing at the door, the presence
of the commissioner Mutel, the chatter of the pre-
vious evening, had naturally roused everybody's
imagination. But this excitement had to be kept
for home use: the whole street was under arrest,
and its inhabitants were forbidden to leave their
houses. The windows, crammed with anxious
faces, questioning each other, in the expectation of
something wonderful, were a curious sight ; and the
ignorance in which they remained, these mysterious
preparations, these orders silently executed, doubled
the curiosity, and added a sort of terror: no one
could see the persons who had accompanied the
police officer; three men remained in the carriage,
one guarded by the two others. When the heavy
coach turned into the rue de la Mortellerie, this
man had bent towards the closed window and
asked —

" Where are we ? "

And when they answered him, he said —
" I do not know this street ; I was never in it."
After saying this quite quietly, he asked —
1643

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" Why am I brought here? "

As no one repHed, he resumed his look of indif-
ference, and betrayed no emotion, neither when the
carriage stopped nor when he saw Monsieur de
Lamotte enter the widow ]\Iasson's house.

The officer reappeared on the threshold, and
ordered Derues to be brought in.

The previous evening, detectives, mingling with
the crowd, had listened to the hawker's story of
having met Derues near the Louvre escorting a large
chest. The police magistrate was informed in the
course of the evening. It was an indication, a ray
of light, perhaps the actual truth, detached from
obscurity by chance gossip; and measures were in-
stantly taken to prevent anyone either entering or
leaving the street without being followed and exam-
ined. Mutel thought he was on the track, but the
criminal might have accomplices also on the watch,
who, warned in time, might be able to remove the
proofs of the crime, if any existed.

Derues was placed between two men who each
held an arm. A third went before, holding a torch.
The commissioner, followed by men also carrying
torches, and provided with spades and pickaxes,
came behind, and in this order they descended to
the vault. It was a dismal and terrifying proces-
sion ; anyone beholding these dark and sad coun-
tenances, this pale and resigned man, passing thus

1644

DERUES

into these damp vaults illuminated by the flickering
glare of torches, might well have thought himself
the victim of illusion and watching some gloomy
execution in a dream. But all was real, and when
light penetrated this dismal charnel-house it seemed
at once to illuminate its secret depths, so that the
light of truth might at length penetrate these dark
shadows, and that the voice of the dead would
speak from the earth and the walls,

" Wretch ! " exclaimed Monsieur de Lamotte,
when he saw Derues appear, " is it here that you
murdered my wife and my son ? "

Derues looked calmly at him, and replied —

" I beg you, sir, not to add insult to the mis-
fortunes you have already caused. If you stood in
my place and I were in yours, I should feel some
pity and respect for so terrible a position. What
do you want me? and why am I brought
here?"

He did not know the events of last evening, and
could only mentally accuse the mason who had
helped to bury the chest. He felt that he was lost,
but his audacity never forsook him.

" You are here, in the first place, to be con-
fronted with this woman," said the officer, causing
the widow Masson to stand opposite to him.

" I do not know her."

" But I know you, and know you well. It was
1645

CELEBRATED CRIMES

you who hired this cellar under the name of Du-
coudray."

Derues shrugged his shoulders and answered
bitterly —

" I can understand a man being condemned to
the torture if he is guilty, but that in order to accom-
plish one's mission as accuser, and to discover a
criminal, false witnesses who can give no evidence
should be brought a hundred leagues, that the rab-
ble should be roused up, that divers faces and imag-
inary names should be bestowed on an innocent
man, in order to turn a movement of surprise or an
indignant gesture to his disadvantage, all this is
iniquitous, and goes beyond the right of judgment
bestowed upon men by God. I do not know this
woman, and no matter what she says or does, I
shall say no more."

Neither the skill nor threats of the police officer
could shake this resolution. It was to no purpose
that the widow Masson repeated and asseverated
that she recognised him as her tenant Ducoudray,
and that he had had a large case of wine taken
down into the cellar; Derues folded his arms, and
remained as motionless as if he had been blind and
deaf.

The walls were sounded, the stones composing
them carefully examined, the floor pierced in sev-
eral places, but nothing unusual was discovered.

1646

DERUES

Would they have to give it up ? Already the officer
was making signs to this effect, when the man who
had remained at first below with Monsieur de La-
motte, and who, standing in shadow, had carefully
watched Derues when he was brought down, came
forward, and pointing to the recess under the stairs,
said —

" Examine this corner. The prisoner glanced
involuntarily in this direction when he came down;
I have watched him, and it is the only sign he has
given. I was the only person who could see him,
and he did not see me. He is very clever, but one
can't be for ever on one's guard, and may the devil
take me if I haven't scented the hiding-place."

" Wretch ! " said Derues to himself, " then you
have had your hand on me for a whole hour, and
amused yourself by prolonging my agony! Oh! I
ought to have known it; I have found my master.
Never mind, you shall learn nothing from my face,
nor yet from the decaying body you will find;
worms and poison can only have left an unrecog-
nisable corpse."

An iron rod sunk into the ground, encountered a
hard substance some four feet below. Two men
set to work, and dug with energy. Every eye was
fixed upon this trench increasing in depth with every
shovelful of earth which the two labourers cast
aside. Monsieur de Lamotte was nearly fainting,

1647

CELEBRATED CRIMES

and his emotion impressed everyone except Derues.
At length the silence was broken by the spades
striking heavily on wood, and the noise made every-
one shudder. The chest was uncovered and hoisted
out of the trench ; it was opened, and the body of a
woman was seen, clad only in a chemise, with a red
and white headband, face downwards. The body
was turned over, and Monsieur de Lamotte recog-
nised his wife, not yet disfigured.

The feeling of horror was so great that no one
spoke or uttered a sound. Derues, occupied in con-
sidering the few chances which remained to him,
had not observed that, by the officer's order, one
of the guards had left the cellar before the men
began to dig. Everybody had drawn back both
from the corpse and the murderer, who alone had
not moved, and who was repeating prayers. The
flame of the torches placed on the ground cast a
reddish light on this silent and terrible scene.

Derues started and turned round on hearing a
terrified cry behind him. His wife had just been
brought to the cellar. The commissioner seized her
with one hand, and taking a torch in the other, com-
pelled her to look down on the body.

" It is Madame de Lamotte ! " he exclaimed.

" Yes, yes," she answered, overwhelmed with
terror, — "yes, I recognise her! "

Unable to support the sight any longer, she grew
1648

DERUES

pale and fainted away. She and her husband were
removed separately. One would have supposed the
discovery was already known outside, for the peo-
ple showered curses and cries of " Assassin ! " and
"Poisoner! " on the carriage which conveyed De-
rues. He remained silent during the drive, but
before re-entering his dungeon, he said —

" I must have been mad when I sought to hide
the death and burial of Madame de Lamotte from
public knowledge. It is the only sin I have com-
mitted, and, innocent of aught else, I resign myself
as a Christian to the judgment of God."

It was the only line of defence which remained
open to him, and he clung to it, with the hope of
imposing on the magistrates by redoubled hypocrisy
and pious observances. But all this laboriously con-
structed scaffolding of lies was shaken to its base
and fell away piece by piece. Every moment
brought fresh and overwhelming revelations. He
professed that Madame de Lamotte had died sud-
denly in his house, and that, fearing suspicion, he
had buried her secretly. But the doctors called on
to examine the body declared that she had been
poisoned with corrosive sublimate and opium. The
pretended payment was clearly an odious imposture,
the receipt a forgery! Then, like a threatening
spectre, arose another question, to which he found
no reply, and his own invention turned against him.

1649

CELEBRATED CRIMES

Why, knowing his mother was no more, had he
taken young de Lamotte to Versailles? What had
become of the youth? What had befallen him?
Once on the track, the cooper with whom he had
lodged on the 12th of February was soon discov-
ered, and an Act of Parliament ordered the exhuma-
tion of the corpse buried under the name of Beau-
pre, which the cooper identified by a shirt which
he had given for the burial, Derues, confounded
by the evidence, asserted that the youth died of
indigestion and venereal disease. But the doctors
again declared the presence of corrosive sublimate
and opium. All this evidence of guilt he met with
assumed resignation, lamenting incessantly for
Edouard, whom he declared he had loved as his
own son, " Alas ! " he said, " I see that poor boy
every night ! But it softens my grief to know that
he was not deprived of the last consolations of
religion! God, who sees me, and who knows my
innocence, will enlighten the magistrates, and my
honour will be vindicated."

The evidence being complete, Derues was con-
demned by sentence of the Chatelet, pronounced
April 30th, and confirmed by Parliament, May 5th.
We give the decree as it is found in the archives : —

" This Court having considered the trial held
before the Provost of Paris, or his Deputy-Lieu-

1650

DERUES

tenant at the Chatelet, for the satisfaction of the
aforesaid Deputy at the aforesaid Chatelet, at the
request of the Deputy of the King's Attorney-
General at the aforesaid Court, summoner and
plaintiff, against Antoine-Frangois Derues, and
Marie-Louise Nicolais, his wife, defendants and ac-
cused, prisoners in the prisons of the Conciergerie
of the Palace at Paris, who have appealed from
the sentence given at the aforesaid trial, the thir-
tieth day of April 1777, by which the aforesaid
Antoine-Frangois Derues has been declared duly at-
tainted and convicted of attempting unlawfully to
appropriate without payment, the estate of Buisson-
Souef, belonging to the Sieur and Dame de Saint-
Faust de Lamotte, from whom he had bought the
said estate by private contract on the twenty-second
day of December 1775, and also of having un-
worthily abused the hospitality shown by him since
the sixteenth day of December last towards the
aforesaid Dame de Lamotte, who arrived in Paris
on the aforesaid day in order to conclude with him
the bargain agreed on in December 1775, and who,
for this purpose, and at his request, lodged with her
son in the house of the said Derues, who of pre-
meditated design poisoned the said Dame de La-
motte, whether by a medicine composed and prepared
by him on the thirtieth day of January last, or by
the beverages and drinks administered by him after

1651

CELEBRATED CRIMES

the aforesaid medicine (he having taken the pre-
caution to send his servant into the country for
two or three days, and to keep away strangers from
the room where the said Dame de Lamotte was
lying), from the effects of which poison the said
Dame de Lamotte died on the night of the said
thirty-first day of January last; also of having kept
her demise secret, and of having himself enclosed
in a chest the body of the said Dame de Lamotte,
which he then caused to be secretly transported to
a cellar in the rue de la Mortellerie hired by him
for this purpose, under the assumed name of Du-
coudray, wherein he buried it himself, or caused
it to be buried; also of having persuaded the son
of the above Dame de Lamotte (who, with his
mother, had lodged in his house from the time of
their arrival in Paris until the fifteenth day of Janu-
ary last, and who had then been placed in a school)
that the aforesaid Dame de Lamotte was at Ver-
sailles and desired him to join her there, and, under
this pretence, of having conducted the said younger
Sieur de Lamotte, the twelfth day of February
(after having given him some chocolate), to the
aforesaid town of Versailles, to a lodging hired at
a cooper's, and of having there wilfully poisoned
him, either in the chocolate taken by the said
younger Sieur de Lamotte before starting, or in
beverages and medicaments which the said Derues

1652

DERUES

himself prepared, mixed, and administered to the
aforesaid Sieur de Lamotte the younger, during the
eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth days
of February last, having kept him lying ill in the
aforesaid hired room, and having refused to call
in physicians or surgeons, notwithstanding the prog-
ress of the malady, and the representations made
to him on the subject, saying that he himself was
a physician and surgeon; from which poison the
said Sieur de Lamotte the younger died on the fif-
teenth day of February last, at nine o'clock in the
evening, in the arms of the aforesaid Derues, who,
affecting the deepest grief, and shedding tears, actu-
ally exhorted the aforesaid Sieur de Lamotte to
confession, and repeated the prayers for the dying;
after which he himself laid out the body for burial,
saying that the deceased had begged him to do so,
and telling the people of the house that he had died
of venereal disease; also of having caused him to
be buried the next day in the churchyard of the
parish church of Saint Louis at the aforesaid Ver-
sailles, and of having entered the deceased in the
register of the said parish under a false birthplace,
and the false name of Beaupre, which name the
said Derues had himself assumed on arriving at the
said lodging, and had given to the said Sieur de
Lamotte the younger, whom he declared to be his
nephew. Also, to cover these atrocities, and ir

1653

CELEBRATED CRIMES

order to appropriate to himself the aforesaid estate
of Buisson-Souef, he is convicted of having calum-
niated the aforesaid Dame de Lamotte, and of hav-
ing used various manoeuvres and practised several
deceptions, to wit —

" First, in signing, or causing to be signed, the
names of the above Dame de Lamotte to a deed of
private contract between the said Derues and his
wife on one side and the aforesaid Dame de Lamotte
by right of a power of attorney given by her hus-
band on the other (the which deed is dated the
twelfth day of February, and was therefore written
after the decease of the said Dame de Lamotte) ; by
which deed the said Dame de Lamotte appears to
change the previous conventions agreed on in the
first deed of the twenty-second of December in the
year 1775, and acknowledges receipt from the said
Derues of a sum of one hundred thousand livres,
as being the price of the estate of Buisson ;

*' Secondly, in signing before a notary, the ninth
day of February last, a feigned acknowledgment
for a third part of a hundred thousand livres, in
order to give credence to the pretended payment
made by him;

" Thirdly, in announcing and publishing, and at-
testing even by oath at the time of an examination
before the commissioner Mutel, that he had really
paid in cash to the aforesaid Dame de Lamotte the

1654

DERUES

aforesaid hundred thousand livres, and that she, be-
ing provided with this money, had fled with her son
and a certain person unknown;

" Fourthly, in depositing with a notary the deed
of private contract bearing the pretended receipt
for the above sum of one hundred thousand livres,
and pursuing at law the execution of this deed and
of his claim to the possession of the said estate ;

" Fifthly, in signing or causing to be signed by
another person, before the notaries of the town of
Lyons, whither he had gone for this purpose, a deed
dated the twelfth day of March, by which the sup-
posed Dame de Lamotte appeared to accept the pay-
ment of the hundred thousand livres, and to give
authority to the Sieur de Lamotte, her husband, to
receive the arrears of the remainder of the price
of the said estate, the which deed he produced as a
proof of the existence of the said Dame de Lamotte ;

" Sixthly, in causing to be sent, by other hands,
under the name of the aforesaid Dame de Lamotte,
to a lawyer, on the eighth day of April 1777 (at a
time when he was in prison, and had been compelled
to abandon the fable that he had paid the aforesaid
sum of one hundred thousand livres in hard cash,
and had substituted a pretended payment made in
notes), the notes pretended to have been given by
him in payment to the said Dame de Lamotte ;

" Seventh, and finally, in maintaining constantly,

1655

CELEBRATED CRIMES

until the discovery of the body of the aforesaid
Dame de Lamotte, that the said Dame was still
alive, and that he had seen her at the town of Lyons,
as has been stated above.

" In atonement has been condemned, etc. etc. etc.

" His goods are hereby declared acquired and
confiscated to the King, or to whomsoever His
Majesty shall appoint, first deducting the sum of
two hundred livres as fine for the King, in case the
confiscation is not to the sole profit of His Majesty ;
and also the sum of six hundred livres for masses
to be said for the repose of the souls of the afore-
said Dame de Lamotte and her son. And, before
being executed, the said Antoine-Frangois Derues
shall suffer the question ordinary and extraordinary,
in order that from his mouth may be learned the
truth of these facts, and also the names of his
accomplices. And the decision of the judges in the
proceedings with regard to the above-mentioned
Marie-Louise Nicolais, wife of Derues, is delayed
until after the execution of the above sentence. It
is also decreed that the mortuary act of the afore-
said de Lamotte the younger, dated the sixteenth
day of February last, in the register of deaths
belonging to the parish church of Saint-Louis at
Versailles, be amended, and his correct names be
substituted, in order that the said Sieur de Lamotte,
the father, and other persons interested, may pro-

1656

DERUES

duce said names before the magistrates if required.
And it is also decreed that this sentence be printed
and pubhshed by the deputy of the Attorney-General
at the Chatelet, and affixed to the walls in the usual
places and cross roads of the town, provostship
and viscounty of Paris, and wherever else requisite.
" With regard to the petition of Pierre-Etienne
de Saint-Faust de Lamotte, a Royal Equerry, Sieur
de Grange-Flandre, Buisson-Souef, Valperfond, and
other places, widower and inheritor of Marie-
Frangois Perier, his wife, according to their mar-
riage contract signed before Baron and partner,
notaries at Paris, the fifth day of September 1762,
whereby he desires to intervene in the action
brought against Derues and his accomplices, con-
cerning the assassination and poisoning committed
on the persons of the wife and son of the said Sieur
de Saint-Faust de Lamotte, on the accusation made
by him to the Deputy Attorney-General of the King
at the Chatelet at present pending in the Court, on
the report of the final judgment given in the said
action the 30th of April last, and which allowed the
intervention ; it is decreed that there shall be levied
on the goods left by the condemned, before the
rights of the Treasury, and separate from them,
the sum of six thousand livres, or such other sum as
it shall please the Court to award; from which sum
the said Saint-Faust de Lamotte shall consent to

1657

CELEBRATED CRIMES

deduct the sum of two thousand seven hundred
and forty-eight Hvres, which he acknowledges has
been sent or remitted to him by the said Derues and
his wife at different times; which first sum of six
thousand Hvres, or such other, shall be employed
by the said Sieur de Saint-Faust de Lamotte, who
is authorised to found therewith, in the parish
church of Saint-Nicholas de Villeneuve-le-Roy, in
which parish the estate of Buisson-Souef is situate,
and which is mentioned in the action, an annual and
perpetual service for the repose of the souls of the
wife and son of the said Sieur de Saint-Faust de
Lamotte, of which an act shall be inserted in the
decree of intervention, and a copy of this act or
decree shall be inscribed upon a stone which shall
be set in the wall of the said church of Saint-
Nicholas de Villeneuve-le-Roy, in such place as is
expedient. And the deed of contract for private
sale, made between the late spouse of the said Sieur
de Saint-Faust de Lamotte and the above-named
Derues and his wife, is hereby declared null and
void, as having had no value in absence of any pay-
ment or realisation of contract before a notary; and
the pretended agreement of the twelfth day of Feb-
ruary last, as also all other deeds fabricated by the
said Derues or others, named in the above action, as
also any which may hereafter be presented, are
hereby declared to be null and void.

1658

DERUES

" The Court declares the judgment pronounced by
the magistrates of the Chatelet against the above-
named Derues to be good and right, and his appeal
against the same to be bad and ill-founded.

" It is decreed that the sentence shall lose its full
and entire effect with regard to Marie-Louise Nico-
lais, who is condemned to the ordinary line of twelve
livres. The necessary relief granted on the petition
of Pierre-Etienne de Saint-Faust de Lamotte, the
second day of May this present month, and delay
accorded until after the suspended judgment pro-
nounced with regard to the said Marie-Louise
Nicolais.

" (Signed) De Gourgues, President.
" OuTREMONT^ C ouncHlor.'*

Derues' assurance and calmness never deserted
him for one moment. For three-quarters of an hour
he harangued the Parliament, and his defence was
remarkable both for its presence of mind and the
art with which he made the most of any circum-
stances likely to suggest doubts to the magistrates
and soften the severity of the first sentence. Found
guilty on every point, he yet protested that he was
innocent of poisoning. Remorse, which often
merely means fear of punishment, had no place in
his soul, and torture he seemed not to dread. As
strong in will as he was weak in body, he desired to

1659

CELEBRATED CRIMES

die like a martyr in the faith of his religion, which
was hypocrisy, and the God whom he gloried on the
scaffold was the god of lies.

On May 6th, at seven in the morning, the sen-
tence of execution was read to him. He listened
calmly, and when it was finished, remarked —

" I had not anticipated so severe a sentence."

A few hours later the instruments of torture were
got ready. He was told that this part of his punish-
ment would be remitted if he would confess his
crimes and the names of his accomplices. He
replied —

" I have no more to say. I know what terrible
torture awaits me, I know I must die to-day, but I
have nothing to confess."

He made no resistance when his knees and legs
were bound, and endured the torture courageously.
Only, in a moment of agony, he exclaimed —

" Accursed money ! has thou reduced me to this ? "

Thinking that pain would overcome his resolu-
tion, the presiding magistrate bent towards him,
and said —

" Unhappy man ! confess thy crime, since death
is near at hand."

He recovered his firmness, and, looking at the
magistrate, replied —

" I know it, monseigneur ; I have perhaps not
three hours to live."

1660

DERUES

Thinking that his apparently feeble frame could
not endure the last wedges, the executioner was
ordered to stop. He was unbound and laid on a
mattress, and a glass of wine was brought, of which
he only drank a few drops; after this, he made his
confession to the priest. For dinner, they brought
him soup and stew, which he ate eagerly, and inquir-
ing of the gaoler if he could have something more,
an entree was brought in addition. One might have
thought that this final repast heralded, not death
but deliverance. At length three o'clock struck —
the hour appointed for leaving the prison.

According to the report of credible persons whom
we have consulted, Paris on this occasion presented
a remarkable appearance, which those who saw it
were never able to forget. The great anthill was
troubled to its very lowest depth. Whether by
accident or design, the same day had been fixed
for a function which ought to have proved a con-
siderable counter attraction. A great festival in
honour of a German prince was given on the Plaine
de Crenelle, at which all the court was present ; and
probably more than one great lady regretted miss-
ing the emotions of the Place de Greve, abandoned
to the rabble and the bourgeoisie. The rest of the
city was deserted, the streets silent, the houses
closed, A stranger transported suddenly into such
a solitude might have reasonably thought that dur-

i66i

CELEBRATED CRIMES

ing the night the town had been smitten by the
Angel of Death, and that only a labyrinth of vacant
buildings remained, testifying to the life and tur-
moil of the preceding day. A dark and dense atmos-
phere hung over the abandoned town; lightning
furrowed the heavy motionless clouds; in the dis-
tance the occasional rumble of thunder was heard,
answered by the cannon of the royal fete. The
crowd was divided between the powers of heaven
and earth: the terrible majesty of the Eternal on
one side, on the other the frivolous pomp of royalty
— eternal punishment and transient grandeur in
opposition. Like the waters of a flood leaving dry
the fields which they have covered, so the waves
of the multitude forsook their usual course. Thou-
sands of men and women crowded together along
the route which the death-cart would take ; an ocean
of heads undulated like the ears in a wheatfield.
The old houses, hired at high rates, quivered under
the weight of eager spectators, and the window
sashes had been removed to afford a better view.

Attired in the shirt worn by condemned crim-
inals, and bearing a placard both in front and
behind, with the words " Wilful Poisoner," Denies
descended the great staircase of the Chatelet with
a firm step. It was at this moment, on seeing the
crucifix, that he exclaimed, " O Christ, I shall suffer
like Thee ! " He mounted the tumbril, looking right

1662

DERUES

and left amongst the crowd. During the progress
he recognised and bowed to several of his old asso-
ciates, and bade adieu in a clear voice to the former
mistress of his 'prentice days, who has recorded
that she never saw him look so pleasant. Arrived
at the door of Notre Dame, where the clerk was
awaiting him, he descended from the tumbril with-
out assistance, took a lighted wax taper weighing
two pounds in his hand, and did penance, kneeling,
bareheaded and barefooted, a rope round his neck,
repeating the words of the death-warrant. He then
reascended the cart in the midst of the cries and
execrations of the populace, to which he appeared
quite insensible. One voice only, endeavouring to
dominate the tumult, caused him to turn his head:
it was that of the hawker who was crying his sen-
tence, and who broke off now and then to say —

" Well ! my poor gossip Derues, how do you like
that fine carriage you're in? Oh yes, mutter your
prayers and look up to heaven as much as you like,
you won't take us in now. Ah! thief who said I
stole from you! Wasn't I right when I said I
should be selling your sentence some day?"

Then, adding her own wrongs to the list of
crimes, she declared that the Parliament had con-
demned him as much for having falsely accused
her of theft as for having poisoned Madame de
Lamotte and her son!

1663

CELEBRATED CRIMES

When arrived at the scaffold, he gazed around
him, and a sort of shiver of impatience ran through
the crowd. He smiled, and as if anxious to trick
mankind for the last time, asked to be taken to the
Hotel de Ville, which was granted, in the hope that
he would at last make some confession; but he only
persisted in saying that he was guiltless of poison-
ing. He had an interview with his wife, who nearly
fainted on seeing him, and remained for more than
a quarter of an hour unable to say a word. He lav-
ished tender names upon her, and professed much
affliction at seeing her in so miserable a condition.
When she was taken away, he asked permission to
embrace her, and took a most touching farewell.
His last words have been preserved.

" My dear wife," he said, " I recommend our
beloved children to your care : bring them up in the
fear of God. You must go to Chartres, you will
there see the bishop, on w^hom I had the honour of
waiting when I was there last, and who has always
been kind to me; I believe he has thought well of
me, and that I may hope he will take pity on you
and on our children."

It was now seven in the evening, and the crowd
began to murmur at the long delay. At length the
criminal reappeared. An onlooker who saw him
go to the Hotel de Ville, and who was carried by
the movement of the crowd to the foot of the scaf-

1664

He did penance, kneeling, bareheaded and barefooted,
a rope round his neck, repeating the words of the death-
warrant.

—p. 1663
From the original illustration by Vernier

I

DERUES

fold, says that when handed over to the executioner
he took off his clothes himself. He kissed the in-
strument of punishment with devotion, then ex-
tended himself on the St. Andrew's cross, asking
with a resigned smile that they would make his suf-
ferings as short as possible. As soon as his head
was covered, the executioner gave the signal. One
would have thought a very few blows would have
finished so frail a being, but he seemed as hard to
kill as the venomous reptiles which must be crushed
and cut to pieces before life is extinct, and the coup
de grace was found necessary. The executioner
uncovered his head and showed the confessor that
the eyes were closed and that the heart had ceased
to beat. The body was then removed from the
cross, the hands and feet fastened together, and it
was thrown on the funeral pile.

While the execution was proceeding the people
applauded. On the morrow they bought up the
fragments of bone, and hastened to buy lottery
tickets, in the firm conviction that these precious
relics would bring luck to the fortunate possessors !

In 1777, Madame Derues was sentenced to per-
petual imprisonment, and confined at the Salpetriere.
She was one of the first victims who perished in the
prison massacres.

1665

Dumas — Vol. 5 — G

LA CONSTANTIN

LA CONSTANTIN
1660

CHAPTER I

BEFORE beginning our story, we must warn
the reader that it will not be worth his while
to make researches among contemporary or other
records as to the personage whose name it bears.
For in truth neither Marie Leroux, widow of
Jacques Constantin, nor her accomplice, Claude Per-
regaud, was of sufficient importance to find a place
on any list of great criminals, although it is certain
that they were guilty of the crimes with which they
were charged. It may seem strange that what fol-
lows is more a history of the retribution which over-
took the. criminals than a circumstantial description
of the deeds for which they were punished ; but the
crimes were so revolting, and so unsuitable for dis-
cussion, that it was impossible for us to enter into
any details on the subject, so that what we offer
in these pages is, we confess quite openly, not a full,
true, and particular account of a certain series of

1669

CELEBRATED CRIMES

events leading up to a certain result ; it is not even a
picture wherein that result is depicted with artistic
completeness, it is only an imperfect narrative im-
perfectly rounded off. We feel sure, however, that
the healthy-minded reader will be grateful for our
reticence and total disregard of proportion. In spite
of the disadvantage which such a theme imposes on
any writer with a deep sense of responsibility, we
have resolved to let in some light on these obscure
figures; for we can imagine no more effective way
of throwing into high relief the low morals and
deep corruption into which all classes of society had
sunk at the termination of the factious dissensions
of the Fronde, which formed such a fitting prelude
to the licence of the reign of the grand roi.

After this explanation, we shall, without further
preamble, introduce the reader to a little tavern in
Paris, situated in the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts, on
an evening in November 1658.

It was about seven o'clock. Three gentlemen
were seated at one of the tables in a low, smoky
room. They had already emptied several bottles,
and one of them seemed to have just suggested some
madcap scheme to the others, the thought of which
sent them off into shouts of laughter.

" Pardieu!" said one of them, who was the first
to recover his breath, " I must say it would be an
excellent trick."

1670

I

LA CONSTANTIN

"Splendid!" said another; "and if you like.
Commander de Jars, we can try it this very even-
ing.

" All right, my worthy king's treasurer, provided
my pretty nephew here won't be too much shocked,"
and as he spoke de Jars gave to the youngest of the
three a caressing touch on the cheek with the back
of his hand.

" That reminds me, de Jars ! " said the treasurer,
" that word you have just said piques my curiosity.
For some months now this little fellow here, Cheva-
lier de Moranges, follows you about everywhere
like your shadow. You never told us you had a
nephew. Where the devil did you get him ? "

The commander touched the chevalier's knee un-
der the table, and he, as if to avoid speaking, slowly
filled and emptied his glass.

" Look here," said the treasurer, " do you want
to hear a few plain words, such as I shall rap out
when God takes me to task about the peccadilloes
of my past life? I don't believe a word about the
relationship. A nephew must be the son of either
a brother or a sister. Now, your only sister is an
abbess, and your late brother's marriage was child-
less. There is only one way of proving the rela-
tionship, and that is to confess that when your
brother was young and wild he and Love met, or

else Madame I'Abbesse "

1 671

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" Take care, Treasurer Jeannin ! no slander
against my sister ! "

" Well, then, explain ; you can't fool me ! May I
be hanged if I leave this place before I have dragged
the secret out of you ! Either we are friends or we
are not. What you tell no one else you ought to
tell me. WHiat ! would you make use of my purse
and my sword on occasion and yet have secrets
from me? It's too bad: speak, or our friendship
is at an end! I give you fair warning that I shall
find out everything and publish it abroad to court
and city : when / strike a trail there's no turning me
aside. It will be best for you to whisper your secret
voluntarily into my ear, where it will be as safe as
in the grave."

" How full of curiosity you are, my good
friend!" said de Jars, leaning one elbow on the
table, and twirling the points of his moustache with
his hand; " but if I were to wrap my secret round
the point of a dagger would you not be too
much afraid of pricking your fingers to pull it
off?"

" Not I," said the king's treasurer, beginning to
twirl his moustache also : " the doctors have always
told me that I am of too full a complexion and that
it would do me all the good in the world to be bled
now and then. But what would be an advantage
to me would be dangerous to you. It's easy to see

1672

LA CONSTANTIN

from your jaundiced phiz that for you blood-letting
is no cure."

" And you would really go that length ? You
would risk a duel if I refused to let you get to the
bottom of my mystery ? "

" Yes, on my honour ! Well, how is it to be ? "

" My dear boy," said de Jars to the youth, " we
are caught, and may as well yield gracefully. You
don't know this big fellow as well as I do. He's
obstinacy itself. You can make the most obstinate
donkey go on by pulling its tail hard enough, but
when Jeannin gets a notion into his pate, not all the
legions of hell can get it out again. Besides that,
he's a skilful fencer, so there's nothing for it but
to trust him."

"Just as you like," said the young man; "you
know all my circumstances and how important it is
that my secret should be kept."

" Oh ! among Jeannin's many vices there are a
few virtues, and of these discretion is the greatest,
so that his curiosity is harmless. A quarter of an
hour hence he will let himself be killed rather than
reveal what just now he is ready to risk his skin to
find out, whether we will or no."

Jeannin nodded approvingly, refilled the glasses,
and raising his to his lips, said in a tone of
triumph —

" I am listening, commander."
1673

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" Well, if it must be, it must. First of all, learn
that my nephew is not my nephew at all."

" Go on."

*' That his name is not Moranges."

"And the next?"

" I am not going to reveal his real name to you."

"Why not?"

" Because I don't know it myself, and no more
does the chevalier."

" What nonsense ! "

" No nonsense at all, but the sober truth. A few
months ago the chevalier came to Paris, bringing
me a letter of introduction from a German whom I
used to know years ago. This letter requested me
to look after the bearer and help him in his investi-
gations. As you said just now. Love and someone
once met somewhere, and that was about all was
known as to his origin. Naturally the young man
wants to cut a figure in the world, and would like
to discover the author of his existence, that he may
have someone at hand to pay the debts he is going
to incur. We have brought together every scrap
of information we could collect as to this person,
hoping to find therein a clue that we could follow
up. To be quite open with you, and convince you
at the same time how extremely prudent and dis-
creet we must be, I must tell you that we think we
have found one, and that it leads to no less a digni-

1674

I

LA CONSTANTIN

tary than a Prince of the Church. But if he should
get wind of our researches too soon everything
would be at an end, don't you see? So keep your
tongue between your teeth."

" Never fear," said Jeannin. " Now, that's what
I call speaking out as a friend should. I wish you
luck, my gallant Chevalier de Moranges, and until
you unearth your father, if you want a little money,
my purse is at your service. On my word, de Jars,
you must have been born with a caul. There never
was your equal for wonderful adventures. This
one promises well — spicy intrigues, scandalous reve-
lations, and you'll be in the thick of it all. You're
a lucky fellow! It's only a few months since you
had the most splendid piece of good fortune sent
you straight from heaven. A fair lady falls in love
with you and makes you carry her off from the
convent of La Raquette. But why do you never
let anyone catch a glimpse of her? Are you jeal-
ous? Or is it that she is no such beauty after all,
but old and wrinkled, like that knave of a
Mazarin?"

" I know what I'm about," answered de Jars,
smiling ; " I have my very good reasons. The
elopement caused a great deal of indignation, and
it's not easy to get fanatics to listen to common
sense. No, I am not in the least jealous; she is
madly in love with me. Ask my nephew."

1675

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" Does he know her? "

" We have no secrets from each other ; the con-
fidence between us is without a flaw. The fair one,
beheve me, is good to look on, and is worth all the
ogling, fan-flirting baggages put together that one
sees at court or on the balconies of the Palais Roy-
ale ; I'll answer for that. Isn't she, Moranges ? "

" I'm quite of your opinion," said the youth,
exchanging with de Jars a singularly significant
look ; " and you had better treat her well, uncle, or
I shall play you some trick."

"Aie! aie!" cried Jeannin. "You poor fellow!
I very much fear that you are warming a little ser-
pent in your bosom. Have an eye to this dandy
with the beardless chin! But joking apart, my
boy, are you really on good terms with the fair
lady?"

" Certainly I am."

" And you are not uneasy, commander ? '*

" Not the least little bit."

" He is quite right. I answer for her as for my-
self, you know; as long as he loves her she will love
him; as long as he is faithful she will be faithful.
Do you imagine that a woman who insists on her
lover carrying her off can so easily turn away from
the man of her choice? I know her well; I have
had long talks with her, she and I alone: she is
feather-brained, given to pleasure, entirely without

1676

LA CONSTANTIN

prejudices and those stupid scruples which spoil
the lives of other women; but a good sort on the
whole ; devoted to my uncle, with no deception about
her; but at the same time extremely jealous, and has
no notion of letting herself be sacrificed to a rival.
If ever she finds herself deceived, good-bye to pru-
dence and reserve, and then "

A look and a touch of the commander's knee cut
this panegyric short, to which the treasurer was
listening with open-eyed astonishment.

" What enthusiasm ! " he exclaimed. " Well, and
then ?"

" Why, then," went on the young man, with a
laugh, " if my uncle behaves badly, I, his nephew,
will try to make up for his wrong-doing: he can't
blame me then. But until then he may be quite
easy, as he well knows."

"Oh yes, and in proof of that I am going to take
Moranges with me to-night. He is young and in-
experienced, and it will be a good lesson for him
to see how a gallant whose amorous intrigues did
not begin yesterday sets about getting even
with a coquette. He can turn it to account later
on."

" On my word," said Jeannin, " my notion is that
he is in no great need of a teacher ; however, that's
your business, not mine. Let us return to what we
were talking about just now. Are we agreed; and

1677

CELEBRATED CRIMES

shall we amuse ourselves by paying out the lady in
her own coin? "

" If you like."

" Which of us is to begin ? "

De Jars struck the table with the handle of his
dagger.

" More wine, gentlemen? " said the drawer, run-
ning up,

" No, dice; and be quick about it."

" Three casts each and the highest wins," said
Jeannin. " You begin."

" I throw for myself and nephew." The dice
rolled on the table.

"Ace and three."

" It's my turn now. Six and five."

" Pass it over. Five and two."

" We're equal. Four and two."

" Now let me. Ace and blank."

" Double six."

" You have won."

" And I'm off at once," said Jeannin, rising, and
muffling himself in his mantle. " It's now half-past
seven. We shall see each other again at eight, so
I won't say good-bye."

"Good luck to you!"

Leaving the tavern and turning into the rue
Pavee, he took the direction of the river.

1678

CHAPTER II

IN 1658, at the corner of the streets Git-le-Coeur
and Le Hurepoix (the site of the latter being
now occupied by the Quai des Augustins as far as
Pont Saint-Michel), stood the great mansion which
Francis i had bought and fitted up for the'Duchesse
d'Etampes. It was at this period if not in ruins at
least beginning to show the ravages of time. Its
rich interior decorations had lost their splendour
and become antiquated. Fashion had taken up its
abode in the Marais, near the Place Royale, and it
was thither that profligate women and celebrated
beauties now enticed the humming swarm of old
rakes and young libertines. Not one of them all
would have thought of residing in the mansion, or
even in the quarter, wherein the king's mistress had
once dwelt. It would have been a step downward
in the social scale, and equivalent to a confession
that their charms were falling in the public estima-
tion. Still, the old palace was not empty; it had,
on the contrary, several tenants. Like the prov-
inces of Alexander's empire, its vast suites of rooms
had been subdivided ; and so neglected was it by the

1679

CELEBRATED CRIMES

gay world that people of the commonest description
strutted about with impunity where once the proud-
est nobles had been glad to gain admittance. There,
in semi-isolation and despoiled of her greatness,
lived Angelique-Louise de Guerchi, formerly com-
panion to Mademoiselle de Pons and then maid of
honour to Anne of Austria. Her love intrigues
and the scandals they gave rise to had led to her
dismissal from court. Not that she was a greater
sinner than many who remained behind, only she
was unlucky enough or stupid enough to be found
out. Her admirers were so indiscreet that they
had not left her a shred of reputation, and in a court
where a cardinal is the lover of a queen, a hypo-
critical appearance of decorum is indispensable to
success. So Angelique had to suffer for the faults
she was not clever enough to hide. Unfortunately
for her, her income went up and down with the
number and wealth of her admirers, so when she
left the court all her possessions consisted of a few
articles she had gathered together out of the wreck
of her former luxury, and these she was now sell-
ing one by one to procure the necessaries of life,
while she looked back from afar with an envious
eye at the brilliant world from which she had been
exiled, and longed for better days. All hope was
not at an end for her. By a strange law which does
not speak well for human nature, vice finds success

1680

LA CONSTANTIN

easier to attain than virtue. There Is no courtesan,
no matter how low she has fallen, who cannot find
a dupe ready to defend against the world an honour
of which no vestige remains. A man who doubts
the virtue of the most virtuous woman, who shows
himself inexorably severe when he discovers the
slightest inclination to falter in one whose conduct
has hitherto been above reproach, will stoop and
pick up out of the gutter a blighted and tarnished
reputation and protect and defend it against all
slights, and devote his life to the attempt to restore
lustre to the unclean thing dulled by the touch of
many fingers. In her days of prosperity Commander
de Jars and the king's treasurer had both fluttered
round Mademoiselle de Guerchi, and neither had
fluttered in vain. Short as was the period necessary
to overcome her scruples, in as short a period it
dawned on the two candidates for her favour that
each had a successful rival in the other, and that
however potent as a reason for surrender the doub-
loons of the treasurer had been, the personal appear-
ance of the commander had proved equally cogent.
As both had felt for her only a passing fancy and
not a serious passion, their explanations with each
other led to no quarrel between them; silently and
simultaneously they withdrew from her circle, with-
out even letting her know they had found her out,
but quite determined to revenge themselves on her

1681

CELEBRATED CRIMES

should a chance ever offer. However, other affairs
of a similar nature had intervened to prevent their
carrying out this laudable intention; Jeannin had
laid siege to a more inaccessible beauty, who had
refused to listen to his sighs for less than 30,000
crowns, paid in advance, and de Jars had become
quite absorbed by his adventure with the convent
boarder at La Raquette, and the business of the
young stranger whom he passed off as his nephew.
Mademoiselle de Guerchi had never seen them again,
and with her it was out of sight out of mind. At
the moment when she comes into our story she was
weaving her toils round a certain Due de Vitry,
whom she had seen at court, but whose acquaintance
she had never made, and who had been absent when
the scandalous occurrence which led to her disgrace
came to light. He was a man of from twenty-five
to twenty-six years of age, who idled his life away:
his courage was undoubted, and being as credulous
as an old libertine, he was ready to draw his sword
at any moment to defend the lady whose cause he
had espoused, should any insolent slanderer dare to
hint there was a smirch on her virtue. Being deaf
to all reports, he seemed one of those men expressly
framed by heaven to be the consolation of fallen
women ; such a man as in our times a retired opera-
dancer or a superannuated professional beauty
would welcome with open arms. He had only one

1682

LA CONSTANTIN

fault — he was married. It is true he neglected his
wife, according to the custom of the time, and it is
probably also true that his wife cared very little
about his infidelities. But still she was an insur-
mountable obstacle to the fulfilment of Mademoi-
selle de Guerchi's hopes, who but for her might have
looked forward to one day becoming a duchess.

For about three weeks, however, at the time we
are speaking of, the duke had neither crossed her
threshold nor written. He had told her he was
going for a few days to Normandy, where he had
large estates, but had remained absent so long after
the date he had fixed for his return that she began
to feel uneasy. What could be keeping him ? Some
new flame, perhaps. The anxiety of the lady was
all the more keen, that until now nothing had passed
between them but looks of languor and words of
love. The duke had laid himself and all he pos-
sessed at the feet of Angelique, and Angelique had
refused his offer. A too prompt surrender would
have justified the reports so wickedly spread against
her ; and, made wise by experience, she was resolved
not to compromise her future as she had comprom-
ised her past. But while playing at virtue she hat.
also to play at disinterestedness, and her pecuniary
resources were consequently almost exhausted. She
had proportioned the length of her resistance to the
length of her purse, and now the prolonged absence

1683

CELEBRATED CRIMES

of her lover threatened to disturb the equilibrium
which she had established between her virtue and
her money. So it happened that the cause of the
lovelorn Due de Vitry was in great peril just at the
moment when de Jars and Jeannin resolved to ap-
proach the fair one anew. She was sitting lost in
thought, pondering in all good faith on the small
profit it was to a woman to be virtuous, when she
heard voices in the antechamber. Then her door
opened, and the king's treasurer walked in.

As this interview and those which follow took
place in the presence of witnesses, we are obliged
to ask the reader to accompany us for a time to
another part of the same house.

We have said there were several tenants : now
the person who occupied the rooms next to those in
which Mademoiselle de Guerchi lived was a shop-
keeper's widow called Rapally, who was owner of
one of the thirty-two houses which then occupied
the bridge Saint-Michel. They had all been con-
structed at the owner's cost, in return for a lease
for ever. The widow Rapally's avowed age was
forty, but those who knew her longest added another
ten years to that : so, to avoid error, let us say she
was forty-five. She was a solid little body, rather
stouter than was necessary for beauty ; her hair was
black, her complexion brown, her eyes prominent
and always moving; lively, active, and if one once

1684

LA CONSTANTIN

yielded to her whims, exacting beyond measure ; but
until then buxom and soft, and inclined to pet and
spoil whoever, for the moment, had arrested her
volatile fancy. Just as wq make her acquaintance
this happy individual was a certain Maitre Quenne-
bert, a notary of Saint Denis, and the comedy played
between him and the widow was an exact counter-
part of the one going on in the rooms of Mademoi-
selle de Guerchi, except that the roles were inverted ;
for while the lady was as much in love as the Due de
Vitry, the answering devotion professed by the
notary was as insincere as the disinterested attach-
ment to her lover displayed by the whilom maid of
honour.

Maitre Quennebert was still young and of attract-
ive appearance, but his business affairs were in a
bad way. For long he had been pretending not to
understand the marked advances of the widow, and
he treated her with a reserve and respect she would
fain have dispensed with, and which sometimes made
her doubt of his love. But it was impossible for her
as a woman to complain, so she was forced to accept
with resignation the persistent and unwelcome con-
sideration with which he surrounded her. Maitre
Quennebert was a man of common sense and much
experience, and had formed a scheme which he was
prevented from carrying out by an obstacle which
he had no power to remove. He wanted, therefore,

1685

CELEBRATED CRIMES

to gain time, for he knew that the day he gave the
susceptible widow a legal right over him he would
lose his independence. A lover to whose prayers
the adored one remains deaf too long is apt to draw
back in discouragement, but a woman whose part is
restricted to awaiting those prayers, and answering
with a yes or no, necessarily learns patience. Maitre
Quennebert would therefore have felt no anxiety
as to the effect of his dilatoriness on the widow, were
it not for the existence of a distant cousin of the
late Monsieur Rapally, who was also paying court
to her, and that with a warmth much greater than
had hitherto been displayed by himself. This fact,
in view of the state of the notary's affairs, forced
him at last to display more energy. To make up
lost ground and to outdistance his rival once more,
he now began to dazzle the widow with fine phrases
and delight her with compliments; but to tell the
truth all this trouble was superfluous; he was be-
loved, and with one fond look he might have won
pardon for far greater neglect.

An hour before the treasurer's arrival there had
been a knock at the door of the old house, and
Maitre Quennebert, curled, pomaded, and prepared
for conquest, had presented himself at the widow's.
She received him with a more languishing air than
usual, and shot such arrows at him from her eyes
that to escape a fatal wound he pretended to give

1686

LA CONSTANTIN

way by degrees to deep sadness. The widow, be-
coming alarmed, asked with tenderness —

" What ails you this evening ? "

He rose, feeling he had nothing to fear from his
rival, and, being master of the field, might hence-
forth advance or recede as seemed best for his
interests.

" What ails me ? " he repeated, with a deep sigh.
" I might deceive you, might give you a misleading
answer, but to you I cannot lie. I am in great
trouble, and how to get out of it I don't know."

" But tell me what it is," said the widow, stand-
ing up in her turn.

Maitre Quennebert took three long strides, which
brought him to the far end of the room, and asked —

" Why do you want to know ? You can't help me.
My trouble is of a kind a man does not generally
confide to women."

" What is it? An affair of honour? "

" Yes."

" Good God ! You are going to fight ! " she ex-
claimed, trying to seize him by the arm. " You are
going to fight ! "

" Ah! if it were nothing worse than that! " said
Quennebert, pacing up and down the room : " but
you need not be alarmed ; it is only a money trouble.
I lent a large sum, a few months ago, to a friend,
but the knave has run away and left me in the lurch

1687

CELEBRATED CRIMES

It was trust money, and must be replaced within
three days. But where am I to get two thousand
francs ? "

" Yes, that is a large sura, and not easy to raise
at such short notice."

" I shall be obliged to have recourse to some
Jew, who will drain me dry. But I must save my
good name at all costs."

Madame Rapally gazed at him in consternation.
Maitre Quennebert, divining her thought, hastened
to add —

" I have just one-third of what is needed."

"Only one-third?"

" With great care, and by scraping together all I
possess, I can make up eight hundred livres. But
may I be damned in the next world, or punished as
a swindler in this, and one's as bad as the other to
me, if I can raise one farthing more."

" But suppose someone should lend you the twelve
hundred francs, what then? "

"' Pardicu! I should accept them," cried the notary,
as if he had not the least suspicion whom she could
mean. " Do you happen to know anyone, my dear
Madame Rapally ? "

The widow nodded affirmatively, at the same time
giving him a passionate glance.

"Tell me quick the name of this delightful per-
son, and I shall go to him to-morrow morning. You ,

1688

LA CONSTANTIN

don't know what a service you are rendering me!
And I was so near not telling you of the fix I was in,
lest you should torment yourself uselessly. Tell
me his name."

" Can you not guess it ? "

" How should I guess it? "

" Think well. Does no one occur to you? "

" No, no one," said Quennebert, with the utmost
innocence.

" Have you no friends ? "

"One or two."

" Would they not be glad to help you ? "

" They might. But I have mentioned the matter
to no one."

"To no one?"

" Except you."

"Well?"

" Well, Madame Rapally — I hope I don't undei-
stand you ; it's not possible ; you would not humiliate
me. Come, come, it's a riddle, and I am too stupid
to solve it. I give it up. Don't tantalise me any
longer; tell me the name."

The widow, somewhat abashed by this exhibition
of delicacy on the part of Maitre Quennebert,
blushed, cast down her eyes, and did not venture to
speak.

As the silence lasted some time, it occurred to the
notary that he had been perhaps too hasty in his sup-

1689

CELEBRATED CRIMES

position, and he began to cast round for the best
means of retrieving his blunder.

"You do not speak," he said; "I see it was all
a joke."

" No," said the widow at last in a timid voice,
" it was no joke; I was quite in earnest. But the
way you take things is not very encouraging."

" What do you mean ? "

" Pray, do you imagine that I can go on while
you glare at me with that angry frown puckering
your forehead, as if you had someone before you
who had tried to insult you ? "

A sweet smile chased the frown from the notary's
brow. Encouraged by the suspension of hostilities,
Madame Rapally with sudden boldness approached
him, and, pressing one of his hands in both her
own, whispered —

" It is I who am going to lend you the money."

He repulsed her gently, but with an air of great
dignity, and said —

" Madame, I thank you, but I cannot accept."

"Why can't you?"

At this he began to walk round and round the
room, while the widow, who stood in the middle,
turned as upon a pivot, keeping him always in view.
This circus-ring performance lasted some minutes
before Quennebert stood still and said —

" I cannot be angry with you, Madame Rapally,
1690

LA CONSTANTIN

— I know your offer was made out of the kindness
of your heart, — but I must repeat that it is im-
possible for me to accept it."

" There you go again ! I don't understand you
at all ! Why can't you accept ? What harm would
it do?"

"If there were no other reason, because people
might suspect that I confided my difficulties to you
in the hope of help."

" And supposing you did, what then ? People
speak hoping to be understood. You wouldn't have
minded asking anyone else."

" So you really think I did come in that hope ? "

" Moil Dieu! I don't think anything at all that you
don't want. It was I who dragged the confidence
from you by my questions, I know that very well.
But now that you have told me your secret, how can
you hinder me from sympathising with you, from
desiring to aid you ? When I learned your difficulty,
ought I to have been amused, and gone into fits of
laughter? What! it's an insult to be in a position
to render you a service! That's a strange kind of
delicacy! "

" Are you astonished that I should feel so strongly
about it?"

" Nonsense ! Do you still think I meant to offend
you ? I look on you as the most honourable man in
the world. If anyone were to tell me that he had

1691

CELEBRATED CRIMES

seen you commit a base action, I should reply that
it was a lie. Does that satisfy you ? "

" But suppose they got hold of it in the city, sup-
pose it were reported that Maitre Quennebert had
taken money from Madame de Rapally, would it be
the same as if they said Maitre Quennebert had bor-
rowed twelve hundred livres from Monsieur Robert
or some other business man ? "

" I don't see what difference it could make."

" But I do."

"What then?"

" It's not easy to express, but "

" But you exaggerate both the service and the
gratitude you ought to feel. I think I know why
you refuse. You're ashamed to take it as a gift,
aren't you ? "

" Yes, I am."

"Well, I'm not going to make you a gift. Bor-
row twelve hundred livres from me. For how
long do you want the money ? "

" I really don't know how soon I can repay you."

" Let's say a year, and reckon the interest. Sit
down there, you baby, and write out a promissory
note."

Maitre Quennebert made some further show of
resistance, but at last yielded to the widow's impor-
tunity. It is needless to say that the whole thing
was a comedy on his part, except that he really

1692

LA CONSTANTIN

needed the money. But he did not need it to replace
a sum of which a faithless friend had robbed him,
but to satisfy his own creditors, who, out of all
patience with him, were threatening to sue him, and
his only reason for seeking out Madame de Rapally
was to take advantage of her generous disposition
towards himself. His feigned delicacy was intended
to induce her to insist so urgently, that in accepting
he should not fall too much in her esteem, but should
seem to yield to force. And his plan met with com-
plete success, for at the end of the transaction he
stood higher than ever in the opinion of his fair
creditor, on account of the noble sentiments he had
expressed. The note was written out in legal form
and the money counted down on the spot.

" How glad I am ! " said she then, while Quenne-
bert still kept up some pretence of delicate embar-
rassment, although he could not resist casting a
stolen look at the bag of crowns lying on the table
beside his cloak. " Do you intend to go back to
Saint Denis to-night? "

Even had such been his intention, the notary
would have taken very good care not to say so ; for
he foresaw the accusations of imprudence that
would follow, the enumeration of the dangers by
the way; and it was quite on the cards even that,
having thus aroused his fears, his fair hostess should
in deference to them offer him hospitality for the

1693

CELEBRATED CRIMES

night, and he did not feel inclined for an indefinitely
prolonged tete-a-tete.

" No," he said, "I am going to sleep at Maltre
Terrasson's, rue des Poitevins; I have sent him
word to expect me. But although his house is only
a few yards distant, I must leave you earlier than
I could have wished, on account of this money."

" Will you think of me?"

" How can you ask ? " replied Quennebert, with
a sentimental expression. " You have compelled
me to accept the money, but I shall not be happy
till I have repaid you. Suppose this loan should
make us fall out ? "

" You may be quite sure that if you don't pay
when the bill falls due, I shall have recourse to the
law."

" Oh, I kno^ that very well."

" I shall enforce all my rights as a creditor."

" I expect nothing else."

" I shall show no pity."

And the widow gave a saucy laugh and shook her
finger at him.

" Madame Rapally," said the notary, who was
most anxious to bring this conversation to an end,
dreading every moment that it would take a lan-
guishing tone, — "Madame Rapally, will you add to
your goodness by granting me one more favour ? "

"What is it?"

1694

LA CONSTANTIN

" The gratitude that is simulated is not difficult
to bear, but genuine, sincere gratitude, such as I feel,
is a heavy burden, as I can assure you. It is much
easier to give than to receive. Promise me, then,
that from now till the year is up there shall be no
more reference between us to this money, and that
we shall go on being good friends as before. Leave
it to me to make arrangements to acquit myself
honourably of my obligations towards you. I need
say no more; till a year's up, mum's the word."

" It shall be as you desire, Maitre Quennebert,"
answered Madame Rapally, her eyes shining with
delight. "It was never my intention to lay you
under embarrassing obligations, and I leave it all
to you. Do you know that I am beginning to be-
lieve m presentiments ? "

" You becoming superstitious ! Why, may I
ask?"

" I refused to do a nice little piece of ready-money
business this morning."

"Did you?"

" Yes, because I had a sort of feeling that made
me resist all temptation to leave myself without
cash. Imagine! I received a visit to-day from a
great lady who lives in this house — in the suite of
apartments next to mine."

" What is her name ? "

" Mademoiselle de Guerchi."
1695

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" And what did she want with you? "

" She called in order to ask me to buy, for four
hundred livres, some of her jewels which are well
worth six hundred, for I understand such things;
or should I prefer it to lend her that sum and keep
the jewels as security ? It appears that mademoiselle
is in great straits. De Guerchi — do you know the
name ? "

" I think I have heard it."

" They say she has had a stormy past, and has
been greatly talked of; but then half of what one
hears is lies. Since she came to live here she has
been very quiet. No visitors except one — a noble-
man, a duke — wait a moment! What's his name?
The Due — Due de Vitry; and for over three weeks
even he hasn't been near her. I imagine from this
absence that they have fallen out, and that she is
beginning to feel the want of money."

" You seem to be intimately acquainted with
this young woman's affairs."

" Indeed I am, and yet I never spoke to her till
this morning."

" How did you get your information, then? "

" By chance. The room adjoining this and one
of those she occupies were formerly one large room,
which is now divided into two by a partition wall
covered with tapestry; but in the two corners the
plaster has crumbled away with time, and one can

1696

LA CONSTANTIN

see into the room through slits in the tapestry with-
out being seen oneself. Are you inquisitive? "

" Not more than you, Madame Rapally."

" Come with me. Someone knocked at the street
door a few moments ago ; there's no one else in the
house likely to have visitors at this hour. Perhaps
her admirer has come back."

"If so, we are going to witness a scene of recrim-
ination or reconciliation. How delightful ! "

Although he was not leaving the widow's lodg-
ings, Maitre Quennebert took up his hat and cloak
and the blessed bag of crown pieces, and followed
Madame Rapally on tiptoe, who on her side moved
as slowly as a tortoise and as lightly as she could.
They succeeded in turning the handle of the door
into the next room without making much noise.

" 'Sh! " breathed the widow softly; " Hsten, they
are speaking."

She pointed to the place where he would find a
peep-hole in one corner of the room, and crept her-
self towards the corresponding corner. Quenne-
bert, who was by no means anxious to have her at
his side, motioned to her to blow out the light.
This being done, he felt secure, for he knew that in
the intense darkness which now enveloped them she
could not move from her place without knocking
against the furniture between them, so he glued his
face to the partition. An opening just large enough

1697

Dumas— Vol. 5— H

CELEBRATED CRIMES

for one eye allowed him to see everything that was
going on in the next room. Just as he began his
observations, the treasurer at Mademoiselle de
Guerchi's invitation was about to take a seat near
her, but not too near for perfect respect. Both of
them were silent, and appeared to labour under
great embarrassment at finding themselves together,
and explanations did not readily begin. The lady
had not an idea of the motive of the visit, and her
quondam lover feigned the emotion necessary to
the success of his undertaking. Thus Maitre
Quennebert had full time to examine both, and espe-
cially Angelique. The reader will doubtless desire
to know what was the result of the notary's
observation.

1698

I

CHAPTER III

ANGfiLIQUE-LOUISE DE GUERCHI was
a woman of about twenty-eight years of
age, tall, dark, and well made. The loose life she
had led had, it is true, somewhat staled her beauty,
marred the delicacy of her complexion, and coarse-
ened the naturally elegant curves of her figure ; but
it is such women who from time immemorial have
had the strongest attraction for profligate men. It
seems as if dissipation destroyed the power to per-
ceive true beauty, and the man of pleasure must be
aroused to admiration by a bold glance and a mean-
ing smile, and will only seek satisfaction along the
trail left by vice. Louise-Angelique was admirably
adapted for her way of life; not that her features
wore an expression of shameless effrontery, or that
the words that passed her lips bore habitual testi-
mony to the disorders of her existence, but that un-
der a calm and sedate demeanour there lurked a
secret and indefinable charm. Many other women
possessed more regular features, but none of them
had a greater power of seduction. We must add
that she owed that power entirely to her physical

1699

CELEBRATED CRIMES

perfections, for except in regard to the devices neces-
sary to her calHng, she showed no cleverness, being
ignorant, dull and v^rithout inner resources of any
kind. As her temperament led her to share the de-
sires she excited, she was really incapable of resist-
ing an attack conducted with skill and ardour, and
if the Due de Vitry had not been so madly in love,
which is the same as saying that he was hopelessly
blind, silly, and dense to everything around him, he
might have found a score of opportunities to over-
come her resistance. We have already seen that she
was so straitened in money matters that she had
been driven to try to sell her jewels that very
morning.

Jeannin was the first to break silence.

" You are astonished at my visit, I know, my
charming Angelique. But you must excuse my thus
appearing so unexpectedly before you. The truth
is, I found it impossible to leave Paris without see-
ing you once more."

" Thank you for your kind remembrance," said
she, " but I did not at all expect it."

" Come, come, you are offended with me."

She gave him a glance of mingled disdain and re-
sentment ; but he went on, in a timid, wistful tone —

" I know that my conduct must have seemed
strange to you, and I acknowledge that nothing can
justify a man for suddenly leaving the woman he

1700

LA CONSTANTIN

loves — I do not dare to say the woman who loves
him — without a word of explanation. But, dear
Angelique, I was jealous."

" Jealous ! " she repeated incredulously,

" I tried my best to overcome the feeling, and I
hid my suspicions from you. Twenty times I came
to see you bursting with anger and determined to
overwhelm you with reproaches, but at the sight
of your beauty I forgot everything but that I loved
you. My suspicions dissolved before a smile; one
word from your lips charmed me into happiness.
But when I was again alone my terrors revived, I
saw my rivals at your feet, and rage possessed me
once more. Ah! you never knew how devotedly
I loved you."

She let him speak without interruption; perhaps
the same thought was in her mind as in Quenne-
bert's, who, himself a past master in the art of lying,
was thinking —

" The man does not believe a word of what he is
saying."

But the treasurer went on —

" I can see that even now you doubt my sincerity."

" Does my lord desire that his handmaiden should
be blunt? Well, I know that there is no truth in
what you say."

" Oh ! I can see that you imagine that among the
distractions of the world I have kept no memory of

1701

CELEBRATED CRIMES

you, and have found consolation in the love of less
obdurate fair ones. I have not broken in on your
retirement ; I have not shadowed your steps ; I have
not kept watch on your actions; I have not sur-
rounded you with spies who would perhaps have
brought me the assurance, * If she quitted the world
which outraged her, she was not driven forth by an
impulse of wounded pride or noble indignation ; she
did not even seek to punish those who misunder-
stood her by her absence; she buried herself where
she was unknown, that she might indulge in stolen
loves.' Such were the thoughts that came to me,
and yet I respected your hiding-place ; and to-day I
am ready to believe you true, if you will merely say,
' I love no one else !' "

Jeannin, who was as fat as a stage financier,
paused here to gasp ; for the utterance of this string
of banalities, this rigmarole of commonplaces, had
left him breathless. He was very much dissatisfied
with his performance, and ready to curse his barren
imagination. He longed to hit upon swelling
phrases and natural and touching gestures, but in
vain. He could only look at Mademoiselle de Guer-
chi with a miserable, heart-broken air. She re-
mained quietly seated, with the same expression of
incredulity on her features.

So there was nothing for it but to go on once
more.

1702

LA CONSTANTIN

** But this one assurance that I ask you will not
give. So what I have been told is true: you have
given your love to him."

She could not check a startled movement.

" You see it is only when I speak of him that I
can overcome in you the insensibility which is kill-
ing me. My suspicions were true after all: you
deceived me for his sake. Oh ! the instinctive feel-
ing of jealousy was right which forced me to quar-
rel with that man, to reject the perfidious friendship
which he tried to force upon me. He has returned
to town, and we shall meet! But why do I say
* returned ' ? Perhaps he only pretended to go away,
and safe in this retreat has flouted with impunity,
my despair and braved my vengeance ! "

Up to this the lady had played a waiting game,
but now she grew quite confused, trying to discover
the thread of the treasurer's thoughts. To whom
did he refer? The Due de Vitry? That had been
her first impression. But the duke had only been
acquainted with her for a few months — since she
had left Court. He could not therefore have ex-
cited the jealousy of her whilom lover; and if it
were not he, to whom did the words about rejecting
" perfidious friendship," and " returned to town,"
and so on, apply? Jeannin divined her embarrass-
ment, and was not a little proud of the tactics which
would, he was almost sure, force her to expose her-

1703

CELEBRATED CRIMES

self. For there are certain women who can be
thrown into cruel perplexity by speaking to them
of t^eir love-passages without affixing a proper
name label to each. They are placed as it were on
the edge of an abyss, and forced to feel their way
in darkness. To say " You have loved " almost
obliges them to ask " Whom ? "

Nevertheless, this was not the word uttered by
Mademoiselle de Guerchi while she ran through in
her head a list of possibilities. Her answer was —

" Your language astonishes me ; I don't under-
stand what you mean."

The ice was broken, and the treasurer made a
plunge. Seizing one of Angelique's hands, he asked —

" Have you never seen Commander de Jars since
then?"

" Commander de Jars ! " exclaimed Angelique.

" Can you swear to me, Angelique, that you love
him not?"

" Mon Dieu! What put it into your head that I
ever cared for him? It's over four months since
I saw him last, and I hadn't an idea whether he was
alive or dead. So he has been out of town? That's
the first I heard of it."

"My fortune is yours, Angelique ! Oh ! assure me
once again that you do not love him — that you never
loved him ! " he pleaded in a faltering voice, fixing
a look of painful anxiety upon her.

1704

LA CONSTANTIN

He had no intention of putting her out of coun-
tenance by the course he took; he knew quite well
that a woman like Angelique is never more at her
ease than when she has a chance of telling an un-
truth of this nature. Besides, he had prefaced this
appeal by the magic words, " My fortune is yours ! "
and the hope thus aroused was well worth a per-
jury. So she answered boldly and in a steady voice,
while she looked straight into his eyes —

"Never!"

" I believe you ! " exclaimed Jeannin, going down.
on his knees and covering with his kisses the hand
he still held. " I can taste happiness again. Listen,
Angelique. I am leaving Paris ; my mother is dead,
and I am going back to Spain. Will you follow me
thither?"

" I ?_follow you ? "

" I hesitated long before finding you out, so much
did I fear a repulse. I set out to-morrow. Quit
Paris, leave the world which has slandered you,
and come with me. In a fortnight we shall be man
and wife."

" You are not in earnest ! "

" May I expire at your feet if I am not! Do you
want me to sign the oath with my blood ? "

" Rise," she said in a broken voice. " Have I at
last found a man to love me and compensate me for
all the abuse that has been showered on my head ? A

1705

CELEBRATED CRIMES

thousand times I thank you, not for what you are
doing for me, but for the balm you pour on my
wounded spirit. Even if you were to say to me
now, * After all, I am obliged to give you up,' the
pleasure of knowing you esteem me would make up
for all the rest. It would be another happy memory
to treasure along with my memory of our love,
which was ineffaceable, although you so ungrate-
fully suspected me of having deceived you."

The treasurer appeared fairly intoxicated with
joy. He indulged in a thousand ridiculous extrava-
gances and exaggerations, and declared himself the
happiest of men. Mademoiselle de Guerchi, who
was desirous of being prepared for every peril, asked
him in a coaxing tone —

" Who can have put it into your head to be jeal-
ous of the commander? Has he been base enough
to boast that I ever gave him my love ? "

" No, he never said anything about you ; but
someway I was afraid."

She renewed her assurances. The conversation
continued some time in a sentimental tone. A thou-
sand oaths, a thousand protestations of love were
exchanged. Jeannin feared that the suddenness of
their journey would inconvenience his mistress, and
offered to put it off for some days ; but to this she
would not consent, and it was arranged that the
next day at noon a carriage should call at the house

1706

LA CONSTANTIN

and take Angelique out of town to an appointed
place at which the treasurer was to join her.

Maitre Quennebert, eye and ear on the alert, had
not lost a word of this conversation, and the last
proposition of the treasurer changed his ideas.

" Pardieu! " he said to himself, " it looks as if this
good man were really going to let himself be taken
in and done for. It is singular how very clear-
sighted we can be about things that don't touch us.
This poor fly is going to let himself be caught by a
very clever spider, or I'm much mistaken. Very
likely my widow is quite of my opinion, and yet in
what concerns herself she will remain stone-blind.
Well, such is life! We have only two parts to
choose between: we must be either knave or fool.
What's Madame Rapally doing, I wonder?"

At this moment he heard a stifled whisper from
the opposite corner of the room, but, protected by
the distance and the darkness, he let the widow mur-
mur on, and applied his eye once more to his peep-
hole. What he saw confirmed his opinion. The
damsel was springing up and down, laughing, ges-
ticulating, and congratulating herself on her unex-
pected good fortune.

" Just imagine ! He loves me like that ! " she was
saying to herself. " Poor Jeannin ! When I re-
member how I used to hesitate How fortunate

that Commander de Jars, one of the most vain and

1707

CELEBRATED CRIMES

indiscreet of men, never babbled about me! Yes,
we must leave town to-morrow without fail. I must
not give him time to be enlightened by a chance

word. But the Due de Vitry ? I am really

sorry for him. However, why did he go away, and
send no word ? And then, he's a married man. Ah !
if I could only get back again to court some day!
. . . Who would ever have expected such a thing?
Good God ! I must keep talking to myself, to be sure
I'm not dreaming. Yes, he was there, just now, at
my feet, saying to me, ' Angelique, you are going to
become my wife.' One thing is sure, he may safely
entrust his honour to my care. It would be infa-
mous to betray a man who loves me as he does, who
will give me his name. Never, no, never will I give
him cause to reproach me! I would rather "

A loud and confused noise on the stairs inter-
rupted this soliloquy. At one moment bursts of
laughter were heard, and the next angry voices.
Then a loud exclamation, followed by a short si-
lence. Being alarmed at this disturbance in a house
which was usually so quiet, Mademoiselle de Guerchi
approached the door of her room, intending either
to call for protection or to lock herself in, when
suddenly it was violently pushed open. She recoiled
with fright, exclaiming —

" Commander de Jars ! "

*' On my word!" said Ouennebert behind the
1708

LA CONSTANTIN

arras, " 'tis as amusing as a play ! Is the com-
mander also going to offer to make an honest woman

of her? But what do I see ?"

He had just caught sight of the young man on
whom de Jars had bestowed the title and name of
Chevalier de Moranges, and whose acquaintance
the reader has already made at the tavern in the rue
Saint-Andre-des-Arts. His appearance had as great
an effect on the notary as a thunderbolt. He stood
motionless, trembling, breathless; his knees ready
to give way beneath him; everything black before
his eyes. However, he soon pulled himself together,
and succeeded in overcoming the effects of his sur-
prise and terror. He looked once more through the
hole in the partition, and became so absorbed that
no one in the whole world could have got a word
from him just then; the devil himself might have
shrieked into his ears unheeded, and a naked sword
suspended over his head would not have induced him
to change his place.

1709

CHAPTER IV

BEFORE Mademoiselle de Guerchi had recov-
ered from her fright the commander spoke.

" As I am a gentleman, my beauty, if you were
the Abbess of Montmartre, you could not be more
difficult of access, I met a blackguard on the stairs
who tried to stop me, and whom I was obliged to
thrash soundly. Is what they told me on my return
true? Are you really doing penance, and do you
intend to take the veil ? "

" Sir," answered Angelique, with great dignity,
" whatever may be my plans, I have a right to be
surprised at your violence and at your intrusion at
such an hour."

" Before we go any farther," said de Jars, twirl-
ing round on his heels, " allow me to present to you
my nephew, the Chevalier de Moranges."

" Chevalier de Moranges ! " muttered Quenne-
bert, on whose memory in that instant the name
became indelibly engraven.

" A young man," continued the commander,
" who has come back with me from abroad. Good
style, as you see, charming appearance. Now, you

1710

LA CONSTANTIN

ycung innocent, lift up your great black eyes and
kiss madame's hand; I allow it."

" Monsieur le commandeur, leave my room ; be-
gone, or I shall call "

" Whom, then ? Your lackeys ? But I have
beaten the only one you keep, as I told you, and it
will be some time before he'll be in a condition to
light me downstairs. * Begone,' indeed ! Is that the
way you receive an old friend? Pray be seated,
chevalier."

He approached Mademoiselle de Guerchi, and,
despite her resistance, seized hold of one of her
hands, and forcing her to sit down, seated himself
beside her.

" That's right, my girl," said he ; " now let us
talk sense. I understand that before a stranger you
consider yourself obliged to appear astonished at
my ways of going on. But he knows all about us,
and nothing he may see or hear will surprise him.
So a truce to prudery ! I came back yesterday, but
I could not make out your hiding-place till to-day.
Now I'm not going to ask you to tell me how you
have gone on in my absence. God and you alone
know, and while He will tell me nothing, you would
only tell me fibs, and I want to save you from that
venial sin at least. But here I am, in as good spirits
as ever, more in love than ever, and quite ready to
resume my old habits."

1711

CELEBRATED CRIMES

Meantime the lady, quite subdued by his noisy
entrance and ruffianly conduct, and seeing that an
assumption of dignity would only draw down on her
some fresh impertinence, appeared to resign herself
to her position. All this time Quennebert never took
his eyes from the chevalier, who sat with his face
towards the partition. His elegantly cut costume
accentuated his personal advantages. His jet black
hair brought into relief the whiteness of his fore-
head ; his large dark eyes with their veined lids and
silky lashes had a penetrating and peculiar expres-
sion— a mixture of audacity and weakness; his thin
and somewhat pale lips were apt to curl in an iron-
ical smile ; his hands were of perfect beauty, his feet
of dainty smallness, and he showed with an affecta-
tion of complaisance a well-turned leg above his
ample boots, the turned down tops of which, gar-
nished with lace, fell in irregular folds over his ankles
in the latest fashion. He did not appear to be more
than eighteen years of age, and nature had denied
his charming face the distinctive sign of his sex, for
not the slightest down was visible on his chin, though
a little delicate pencilling darkened his upper lip.
His slightly effeminate style of beauty, the graceful
curves of his figure, his expression, sometimes coax-
ing, sometimes saucy, reminding one of a page,
gave him the appearance of a charming young
scapegrace destined to inspire sudden passions

1712

LA CONSTANTIN

and wayward fancies. While his pretended
uncle was making himself at home most uncer-
emoniously, Quennebert remarked that the
chevalier at once began to lay siege to his fair
hostess, bestowing tender and love-laden glances
on her behind that uncle's back. This redoubled
his curiosity.

" My dear girl," said the commander, " since I
saw you last I have come into a fortune of one
hundred thousand livres, neither more nor less.
One of my dear aunts took it into her head to depart
this life, and her temper being crotchety and spiteful
she made me her sole heir, in order to enrage those
of her relatives who had nursed her in her illness.
One hundred thousand livres ! It's a round sum —
enough to cut a great figure with for two years. If
you like, we shall squander it together, capital and
interest. Why do you not speak? Has anyone
else robbed me by any chance of your heart ? If that
were so, I should be in despair, upon my word — for
the sake of the fortunate individual who had won
your favour; for I will brook no rivals, I give you
fair warning."

" Monsieur le commandeur," answered Angelique,
" you forget, in speaking to me in that manner, I
have never given you any right to control my
actions."

" Have we severed our connection ? "
^7^Z

CELEBRATED CRIMES

At this singular question Angelique started, but
de Jars continued —

" When last we parted we were on the best of
terms, were we not ? I know that some months have
elapsed since then, but I have explained to you the
reason of my absence. Before filling up the blank
left by the departed we must give ourselves space
to mourn. Well, was I right in my guess? Have
you given me a successor ? "

Mademoiselle de Guerchi had hitherto succeeded
in controlling her indignation, and had tried to
force herself to drink the bitter cup of humiliation
to the dregs; but now she could bear it no longer.
Having thrown a look expressive of her suffering
at the young chevalier, who continued to ogle her
with great pertinacity, she decided on bursting into
tears, and in a voice broken by sobs she exclaimed
that she was miserable at being treated in this man-
ner, that she did not deserve it, and that Heaven
was punishing her for her error in yielding to the
entreaties of the commander. One would have sworn
she was sincere and that the words came from her
heart. If Maitre Quennebert had not witnessed the
scene with Jeannin, if he had not known how frail
was the virtue of the weeping damsel, he might have
been affected by her touching plaint. The chevalier
appeared to be deeply moved by Angelique's grief,
and while his uncle was striding up and down the

1714

LA CONSTANTIN

room and swearing like a trooper, he gradually ap-
proached her and expressed by signs the compassion
he felt.

Meantime the notary was in a strange state of
mind. He had not yet made up his mind whether
the whole thing was a joke arranged between de Jars
and Jeannin or not, but of one thing he was quite
convinced, the sympathy which Chevalier de
Moranges was expressing by passionate sighs and
glances was the merest hypocrisy. Had he been
alone, nothing would have prevented his dashing
head foremost into this imbroglio, in scorn of con-
sequence, convinced that his appearance would be
as terrible in its effect as the head of Medusa. But
the presence of the widow restrained him. Why
ruin his future and dry up the golden spring which
had just begun to gush before his eyes, for the sake
of taking part in a melodrama? Prudence and self-
interest kept him in the side scenes.

The tears of the fair one and the glances of the
chevalier awoke no repentance in the breast of the
commander; on the contrary, he began to vent his
anger in terms still more energetic. He strode up
and down the oaken floor till it shook under his
spurred heels; he stuck his plumed hat on the side
of his head, and displayed the manners of a bully
in a Spanish comedy. Suddenly he seemed to have
come to a swift resolution : the expression of his

1715

CELEBRATED CRIMES

face changed from rage to icy coldness, and walking
up to Angelique, he said, with a composure more
terrible than the wildest fury —

" My rival's name ? "

" You shall never learn it from me ! "

" Madame, his name? "

" Never ! I have borne your insults too long. I
am not responsible to you for my actions."

" Well, I shall learn it, in spite of you, and I know
to whom to apply. Do you think you can play fast
and loose with me and my love? No, no! I used
to believe in you; I turned a deaf ear to your tra-
ducers. My mad passion for you became known;
I was the jest and the butt of the town. But you
have opened my eyes, and at last I see clearly on
whom my vengeance ought to fall. He was for-
merly my friend, and I would believe nothing
against him; although I was often warned, I took
no notice. But now I will seek him out, and say
to him, * You have stolen what was mine ; you are
a scoundrel! It must be your life or mine! ' And
if there is justice in heaven, I shall kill him ! Well,
madame, you don't ask me the name of this man!
You well know whom I mean! "

This threat brought home to Mademoiselle de

Guerchi how imminent was her danger. At first

she had thought the commander's visit might be a

snare laid to test her, but the coarseness of his ex-

1716

LA CONSTANTIN

pressions, the cynicism of his overtures in the pres-
ence of a third person, had convinced her she was
wrong. No man could have imagined that the re-
volting method of seduction employed could meet
with success, and if the commander had desired to
convict her of perfidy he would have come alone
and made use of more persuasive weapons. No,
he believed he still had claims on her, but even if he
had, by his manner of enforcing them he had ren-
dered them void. However, the moment he threat-
ened to seek out a rival whose identity he desig-
nated quite clearly, and reveal to him the secret it
was so necessary to her interests to keep hidden, the
poor girl lost her head. She looked at de Jars with
a frightened expression, and said in a trembling
voice —

" I don't know whom you mean."

" You don't know ? Well, I shall commission the
king's treasurer, Jeannin de Castille, to come here
to-morrow and tell you, an hour before our duel."

" Oh no ! no ! Promise me you will not do that ! "
cried she, clasping her hands.

" Adieu, madame."

" Do not leave me thus ! I cannot let you go till
you give me your promise ! "

She threw herself on her knees and clung with
both her hands to de Jars' cloak, and appealing to
Chevalier de Moranges, said —

1717

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" You are young, monsieur ; I have never done
you any harm ; protect me, have pity on me, help me
to soften him! "

" Uncle," said the chevalier in a pleading tone,
" be generous, and don't drive this woman to
despair."

"Prayers are useless!" answered the com-
mander.

" What do you want me to do ? " said Angelique.
" Shall I go into a convent to atone ? I am ready
to go. Shall I promise never to see him again?
For God's sake, give me a httle time; put off your
vengeance for one single day! To-morrow evening,
I swear to you, you will have nothing more to fear
from me, I thought myself forgotten by you and
abandoned ; and how should I think otherwise ?
You left me without a word of farewell, you stayed
away and never sent me a line! And how do you
know that I did not weep when you deserted me,
leaving me to pass my days in monotonous soli-
tude? How do you know that I did not make
every effort to find out why you were so long absent
from my side? You say you had left town — but
how was I to know that? Oh! promise me, if you
love me, to give up this duel! Promise me not to
seek that man out to-morrow ! "

The poor creature hoped to work wonders with
her eloquence, her tears, her pleading glances. On

1718

LA CONSTANTIN

hearing her prayer for a reprieve of twenty- four
hours, swearing that after that she would never
see Jeannin again, the commander and the chevaHer
were obHged to bite their Hps to keep from laughing
outright. But the former soon regained his self-
possession, and while Angelique, still on her knees
before him, pressed his hands to her bosom, he
forced her to raise her head, and looking straight
into her eyes, said —

" To-morrow, madame, if not this evening, he
shall know everything, and a meeting shall take
place."

Then pushing her away, he strode towards the
door.

" Oh ! how unhappy I am ! " exclaimed An-
gelique.

She tried to rise and rush after him, but whether
she was really overcome by her feelings, or whether
she felt the one chance of prevailing left her was to
faint, she uttered a heartrending cry, and the cheva-
lier had no choice but to support her sinking form.

De Jars, on seeing his nephew staggering under
this burden, gave a loud laugh, and hurried away.
Two minutes later he was once more at the tavern
In the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts.

" How's this? Alone? " said Jeannin.

" Alone."

" What have you done with the chevalier? '*
1719

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" I left him with our charmer, who was uncon-
scious, overcome with grief, exhausted Ha!

ha! ha! She fell fainting into his arms! Ha!
ha! ha!"

" It's quite possible that the young rogue, being
left with her in such a condition, may cut me out."

" Do you think so ?— Ha ! ha ! ha ! "

And de Jars laughed so heartily and so infec-
tiously that his worthy friend was obliged to join
in, and laughed till he choked.

In the short silence which followed the departure
of the commander, Maitre Quennebert could hear
the widow still murmuring something, but he was
less disposed than ever to attend to her.

" On my word," said he, " the scene now going
on is more curious than all that went before. I don't
think that a man has ever found himself in such a
position as mine. Although my interests demand
that I remain here and listen, yet my fingers are itch-
ing to box the ears of that Chevalier de Moranges.
If there were only some way of getting at a proof
of all this ! Ah ! now we shall hear something ; the
hussy is coming to herself."

And indeed Angelique had opened her eyes and
was casting wild looks around her ; she put her hand
to her brow several times, as if trying to recall
clearly what had happened.

" Is he gone? " she exclaimed at last. " Oh, why
1720

LA CONSTANTIN

did you let him go ? You should not have minded
me, but kept him here."

" Be calm," answered the chevalier, — " be calm,
for heaven's sake. I shall speak to my uncle and
prevent his ruining your prospects. Only don't
weep any more, your tears break my heart. Ah, my
God! how cruel it is to distress you so! I should
never be able to withstand your tears; no matter
what reason I had for anger, a look from you would
make me forgive you everything."

" Noble young man ! " said Angelique.

" Idiot ! " muttered Maitre Quennebert ; " swallow

the honey of his words, do But how the deuce

is it going to end? Not Satan himself ever invented
such a situation."

" But then I could never believe you guilty with-
out proof, irrefutable proof; and even then a word
from you would fill my mind with doubt and uncer-
tainty again. Yes, were the whole world to accuse
you and swear to your guilt, I should still believe
your simple word. I am young, madam, I have
never known love as yet — until an instant ago I had
no idea that more quickly than an image can excite
the admiration of the eye, a thought can enter the
heart and stir it to its depths, and features that one
may never again behold leave a lifelong memory
behind. But even if a woman of whom I knew abso-
lutely nothing were to appeal to me, exclaiming,

1 72 1

CELEBRATED CRIMES

* I implore your help, your protection ! * I should,
without stopping to consider, place my sword and
my arm at her disposal, and devote myself to her
service. How much more eagerly would I die for
you, madam, whose beauty has ravished my heart!
What do you demand of me? Tell me what you
desire me to do."

** Prevent this duel ; don't allow an interview to
take place between your uncle and the man whom he
mentioned. Tell me you will do this, and I shall
be safe; for you have never learned to lie, I
know."

" Of course he hasn't, you may be sure of that,
you simpleton ! " muttered Maitre Quennebert in
his corner. " If you only knew what a mere
novice you are at that game compared with the
chevalier! If you only knew whom you had before
you!"

" At your age," went on Angelique, " one cannot
feign — the heart is not yet hardened, and is capable
of compassion. But a dreadful idea occurs to me —
a horrible suspicion! Is it all a devilish trick — a
snare arranged in joke? Tell me that it is not all a
pretence! A poor woman encounters so much per-
fidy. Men amuse themselves by troubling her heart
and confusing her mind ; they excite her vanity, they
compass her round with homage, with flattery, with
temptation, and when they grow tired of fooling

1722

LA CONSTANTIN

her, they despise and insult her. Tell me, was this
all a preconcerted plan? This love, this jealousy,
were they only acted ? "

" Oh, madame," broke in the chevalier, with an
expression of the deepest indignation, " how can
you for an instant imagine that a human heart could
be so perverted ? I am not acquainted with the man
whom the commander accused you of loving, but
whoever he may be I feel sure that he is worthy of
your love, and that he would never have consented
to such a dastardly joke. Neither would my uncle;

his jealousy mastered him and drove him mad

But I am not dependent on him ; I am my own mas-
ter, and can do as I please. I will hinder this duel ;
I will not allow the illusion and ignorance of him
who loves you and, alas that I must say it, whom
you love, to be dispelled, for it is in them he finds
his happiness. Be happy with him! As for me, I
shall never see you again; but the recollection of
this meeting, the joy of having served you, will be
my consolation."

Angelique raised her beautiful eyes, and gave the
chevalier a long look which expressed her gratitude
more eloquently than words.

" May I be hanged ! " thought Maitre Quenne-
bert, " if the baggage isn't making eyes at him
already! But one who is drowning clutches at a
straw."

1723

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" Enough, madam," said the chevalier; " I under-
stand all you would say. You thank me in his name,
and ask me to leave you: I obey — yes, madame, I
am going; at the risk of my life I will prevent this
meeting, I will stifle this fatal revelation. But grant
me one last prayer — permit me to look forward to
seeing you once more before I leave this city, to
which I wish I had never come. But I shall quit it
in a day or two, to-morrow perhaps — as soon as I
know that your happiness is assured. Oh! do not
refuse my last request; let the light of your eyes
shine on me for the last time ; after that I shall de-
part— I shall fly far away for ever. But if per-
chance, in spite of every effort, I fail, if the com-
mander's jealousy should make him impervious to
my entreaties — to my tears, if he whom you love
should come and overwhelm you with reproaches
and then abandon you, would you drive me from
your presence if I should then. say, 'I love you'?
Answer me, I beseech you."

" Go ! " said she, " and prove worthy of my grat-
itude— or my love."

Seizing one of her hands, the chevalier covered
it with passionate kisses.

" Such barefaced impudence surpasses every-
thing I could have imagined ! " murmured Quenne-
bert : " fortunately, the play is over for to-night ; if
it had gone on any longer, I should have done some-

1724

LA CONSTANTIN

thing foolish. The lady hardly imagines what the
end of the comedy will be."

Neither did Quennebert. It was an evening of
adventures. It was written that in the space of two
hours Angelique was to run the gamut of all the
emotions, experience all the vicissitudes to which a
life such as she led is exposed : hope, fear, happiness,
mortification, falsehood, love that was no love, in-
trigue within intrigue, and, to crown all, a totally
unexpected conclusion.

1725

CHAPTER V

A I AHE chevalier was still holding Angelique's
JL hand when a step resounded outside, and a
voice was heard.

"Can it be that he has come back?" exclaimed
the damsel, hastily freeing herself from the pas-
sionate embrace of the chevalier. " It's not possi-
ble! Mon Dieu! mon Dieii! it's his voice! "

She grew pale to the lips, and stood staring at the
door with outstretched arms, unable to advance or
recede.

The chevalier listened, but felt sure the approach-
ing voice belonged neither to the commander nor to
the treasurer.

" 'His voice' ? " thought Quennebert to himself.
" Can this be yet another aspirant to her favour ? "

The sound came nearer.

"Hide yourself! " said Angelique, pointing to a
door opposite to the partition behind which the
widow and the notary were ensconced. " Hide
yourself there ! — there's a secret staircase — ^you can
get out that way."

" I hide myself ! " exclaimed Moranges, with a
1726

LA CONSTANTIN

swaggering air. "What are you thinking of? I
remain."

It would have been better for him to have fol-
lowed her advice, as may very well have occurred to
the youth two minutes later, as a tall, muscular
young man entered in a state of intense excitement.
Angelique rushed to meet him, crying —

" Ah ! Monsieur le due, is it you ? "

" What is this I hear, Angelique ? " said the Due
de Vitry. "I was told below that three men had
visited you this evening; but only two have gone
out — ^where is the third? Ha! I do not need long
to find him," he added, as he caught sight of the
chevalier, who stood his ground bravely enough.

" In Heaven's name ! " cried Angelique, — " in
Heaven's name, listen to me ! **

" No, no, not a word. Just now I am not ques-
tioning you. Who are you, sir ? "

The chevalier's teasing and bantering disposition
made him even at that critical moment insensible to
fear, so he retorted insolently —

" Whoever I please to be, sir ; and on my word I
find the tone in which you put your question delight-
fully amusing."

The duke sprang forward in a rage, laying his
hand on his sword. Angelique tried in vain to
restrain him.

" You want to screen him from my vengeance,
1727

CELEBRATED CRIMES

you false one ! " said he, retreating a few steps, so as
to guard the door. " Defend your life, sir! "

" Do you defend yours! "

Both drew at the same moment.

Two shrieks followed, one in the room, the other
behind the tapestry, for neither Angelique nor the
widow had been able to restrain her alarm as the
two swords flashed in air. In fact the latter had been
so frightened that she fell heavily to the floor in a
faint.

This incident probably saved the young man's
life ; his blood had already begun to run cold at the
sight of his adversary foaming with rage and stand-
ing between him and the door, when the noise of the
fall distracted the duke's attention.

" What was that ? " he cried. " Are there other
enemies concealed here too ? " And forgetting that
he was leaving a way of escape free, he rushed in
the direction from which the sound came, and
lunged at the tapestry-covered partition with his
sword. Meantime the chevalier, dropping all his airs
of bravado, sprang from one end of the room to the
other like a cat pursued by a dog ; but rapid as were
his movements, the duke perceived his flight, and
dashed after him at the risk of breaking both his
own neck and the chevaHer's by a chase through
unfamiliar rooms and down stairs which were
plunged in darkness.

1728

LA CONSTANTIN

All this took place in a few seconds, like a flash
of lightning. Twice, with hardly any interval, the
street door opened and shut noisily, and the two
enemies were in the street, one pursued and the
other pursuing.

" My God ! Just to think of all that has happened
is enough to make one die of fright! " said Made-
moiselle de Guerchi. " What will come next, I
should like to know ? And what shall I say to the
duke when he comes back ? "

Just at this instant a loud cracking sound was
heard in the room. Angelique stood still, once more
struck with terror, and recollecting the cry she had
heard. Her hair, which was already loosened, es-
caped entirely from its bonds, and she felt it rise
on her head as the figures on the tapestry moved
and bent towards her. Falling on her knees and
closing her eyes, she began to invoke the aid of God
and all the saints. But she soon felt herself raised
by strong arms, and looking round, she found her-
self in the presence of an unknown man, who seemed
to have issued from the ground or the walls, and
who, seizing the only light left unextinguished in
the scuffle, dragged her more dead than alive into
the next room.

This man was, as the reader will have already
guessed, Maitre Quennebert. As soon as the cheva-
lier and the duke had disappeared, the notary had

1729

Dumas — Vol. 5 — I

CELEBRATED CRIMES

run towards the corner where the widow lay, and
having made sure that she was really unconscious,
and unable to see or hear anything, so that it would
be quite safe to tell her any story he pleased next
day, he returned to his former position, and apply-
ing his shoulder to the partition, easily succeeded
in freeing the ends of the rotten laths from the nails
which held them, and, pushing them before him,
made an aperture large enough to allow of his pass-
ing through into the next apartment. He applied
himself to this task with such vigour, and became so
absorbed in its accomplishment, that he entirely for-
got the bag of twelve hundred livres which the
widow had given him.

" Who are you ? What do you want with me ? "
cried Mademoiselle de Guerchi, struggling to free
herself.

" Silence ! " was Quennebert's answer.

" Don't kill me, for pity's sake ! "

" Who wants to kill you ? But be silent ; I don't
want your shrieks to call people here. I must be
alone with you for a few moments. Once more I
tell you to be quiet, unless you want me to use vio-
lence. If you do what I tell you, no harm shall hap-
pen to you.**

" But who are you, monsieur? **

" I am neither a burglar nor a murderer ;
that*s all you need to know; the rest is no con-

1730

LA CONSTANTIN

cern of yours. Have you writing materials at
hand?"

" Yes, monsieur ; there they are, on that table."

" Very well. Now sit down at the table."

"Why?"

" Sit down, and answer my questions."

" The first man who visited you this evening was
M. Jeannin, was he not ? "

"Yes, M. "Jeannin de Castille."

" The king's treasurer ? "

" Yes."

"All right. The second was Commander de Jars,
and the young man he brought with him was his
nephew, the Chevalier de Moranges. The last comer
was a duke ; am I not right ? "

" The Due de Vitry."

" Now write from my dictation."

He spoke very slowly, and Mademoiselle de
Guerchi, obeying his commands, took up her
pen.

" 'To-day,' " dictated Quennebert, — " 'to-day, this
twentieth day of the month of November, in the

year of the Lord 1658, I ' What is your full

name ? "

" Angelique-Louise de Guerchi."

" Go on ! * I, Angelique-Louise de Guerchi,
was visited, in the rooms which I occupy, in
the mansion of the Duchesse d'Etampes, cor-

CELEBRATED CRIMES

ner of the streets Git-le-Coeur and du Hurepoix,
about half-past seven o'clock in the evening, in the
first place, by Messire Jeannin de Castille, King's
Treasurer; in the second place, by Commander de
Jars, who was accompanied by a young man, his
nephew, the Chevalier de Moranges; in the third
place, after the departure of Commander de Jars,
and while I was alone with the Chevalier de Mor-
anges, by the Due de Vitry, who drew his sword
upon the said chevalier and forced him to take
flight.'

" Now put in a line by itself, and use capitals —

'' 'Description of the Chevalier de Moranges/ "

" But I only saw him for an instant," said Ange-
lique, '' and I can't recall "

" Write, and don't talk. I can recall everything,
and that is all that is wanted.

" 'Height about five feet.' The chevalier," said
Quennebert, interrupting himself, " is four feet
eleven inches three lines and a half, but I don't need
absolute exactness." Angelique gazed at him in
utter stupefaction.

" Do you know him, then? " she asked.

" I saw him this evening for the first time, but
my eye is very accurate.

" 'Height about five feet ; hair black, eyes ditto,
1732

LA CONSTANTIN

nose aquiline, mouth large, lips compressed, fore-
head high, face oval, complexion pale, no beard.'
" Now another line, and in capitals —

* Special Marks.'

" 'A small mole on the neck behind the right ear,
a smaller mole on the left hand.'

" Have you written that ? Now sign it with your
full name."

" What use are you going to make of this
paper? "

" I should have told you before, if I had desired
you to know. Any questions are quite useless. I
don't enjoin secrecy on you, however," added the
notary, as he folded the paper and put it into his
doublet pocket. " You are quite free to tell anyone
you like that you have written the description of
the Chevalier de Moranges at the dictation of an
unknown man, w^ho got into your room you don't
know how, by the chimney or through the ceiling
perhaps, but who was determined to leave it by a
more convenient road. Is there not a secret stair-
case? Show me where it is. I don't want to meet
anyone on my way out."

Angelique pointed out a door to him hidden by a
damask curtain, and Quennebert saluting her,
opened it and disappeared, leaving Angelique con-
1733

CELEBRATED CRIMES

vinced that she had seen the devil in person. Not
until the next day did the sight of the displaced
partition explain the apparition, but even then so
great was her fright, so deep was the terror which
the recollection of the mysterious man inspired, that
despite the permission to tell what had happened she
mentioned her adventure to no one, and did not even
complain to her neighbour, Madame Rapally, of
the inquisitiveness which had led the widow to spy
on her actions.

1734

CHAPTER VI

WE left de Jars and Jeannin, roaring with
laughter, in the tavern in the rue Saint-
Andre-des-Arts.

" What! " said the treasurer, " do you really think
that Angelique thought I was in earnest in my
offer? — that she believes in all good faith I intend
to marry her ? "

" You may take my word for it. If it were not
so, do you imagine she would have been in such
desperation ? Would she have fainted at my threat
to tell you that I had claims on her as well as you?
To get married ! Why, that is the goal of all such
creatures, and there is not one of them who can
understand why a man of honour should blush to
give her his name. If you had only seen her terror,
her tears! They would have either broken your
heart or killed you with laughter."

" Well," said Jeannin, " it is getting late. Are
we going to wait for the chevalier ? "

" Let us call for him."

" Very well. Perhaps he has made up his mind to
stay. If so, we shall make a horrible scene, cry

1735

CELEBRATED CRIMES

treachery and perjury, and trounce your nephew
well. Let's settle our score and be off."

They left the wine-shop, both rather the worse
for the wine they had so largely indulged in. They
felt the need of the cool night air, so instead of go-
ing down the rue Pavee they resolved to follow the
rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts as far as the Pont Saint-
Michel, so as to reach the mansion by a longer route.

At the very moment the commander got up to
leave the tavern the chevalier had run out of the
mansion at the top of his speed. It was not that he
had entirely lost his courage, for had he found it
impossible to avoid his assailant it is probable that
he would have regained the audacity which had led
him to draw his sword. But he was a novice in the
use of arms, had not reached full physical develop-
ment, and felt that the chances were so much against
him that he would only have faced the encounter if
there were no possible way of escape. On leaving
the house he had turned quickly into the rue Git-le-
Cceur; but on hearing the door close behind his
pursuer he disappeared down the narrow and
crooked rue de I'Hirondelle, hoping to throw the
Due de Vitry off the scent. The duke, however,
though for a moment in doubt, was guided by the
sound of the flying footsteps. The chevalier, still
trying to send him off on a false trail, turned to the
right, and so regained the upper end of the rue

1736

LA CONSTANTIN

Saint-Andre, and ran along it as far as the church,
the site of which is occupied by the square of the
same name to-day. Here he thought he would be
safe, for, as the church was being restored and
enlarged, heaps of stone stood all round the old
pile. He glided in among these, and twice heard
Vitry searching quite close to him, and each time
stood on guard expecting an onslaught. This
marching and counter-marching lasted for some
minutes ; the chevalier began to hope he had escaped
the danger, and eagerly waited for the moment when
the moon which had broken through the clouds
should again withdraw behind them, in order to
steal into some of the adjacent streets under cover
of the darkness. Suddenly a shadow rose before
him and a threatening voice cried —

" Have I caught you at last, you coward ? "
The danger in which the chevalier stood awoke
in him a flickering energy, a feverish courage, and
he crossed blades with his assailant. A strange com-
bat ensued, of which the result was quite uncertain,
depending entirely on chance ; for no science, was of
any avail on a ground so rough that the combatants
stumbled at every step, or struck against immovable
masses, which were one moment clearly lit up, and
the next in shadow. Steel clashed on steel, the
feet of the adversaries touched each other, several
times the cloak of one was pierced by the sword of

CELEBRATED CRIMES

the other, more than once the words " Die then ! "
rang out. But each time the seemingly vanquished
combatant sprang up unwounded, as agile and as
lithe and as quick as ever, while he in his turn
pressed the enemy home. There was neither truce
nor pause, no clever feints nor fencer's tricks could
be employed on either side ; it was a mortal combat,
but chance, not skill, would deal the death-blow.
Sometimes a rapid pass encountered only empty
air ; sometimes blade crossed blade above the wield-
ers' heads; sometimes the fencers lunged at each
other's breast, and yet the blows glanced aside at
the last moment and the blades met in air once
more. At last, however, one of the two, making
a pass to the right which left his breast unguarded,
received a deep wound. Uttering a loud cry, he
recoiled a step or two, but, exhausted by the effort,
tripped and fell backward over a large stone, and lay
there motionless, his arms extended in the form of
a cross.

The other turned and fled.

" Hark, de Jars ! " said Jeannin, stopping.
" There's fighting going on hereabouts ; I hear the
clash of swords."

Both listened intently.

" I hear nothing now."

" Hush! there it goes again. It's by the church."

** What a dreadful cry ! "
1738

1

LA CONSTANTIN

They ran at full speed towards the place whence
it seemed to come, but found only solitude, darkness,
and silence. They looked in every direction.

" I can't see a living soul," said Jeannin, " and I
very much fear that the poor devil who gave that
yell has mumbled his last prayer."

" I don't know why I tremble so," replied de Jars ;
" that heartrending cry made me shiver from head
to foot. Was it not something like the chevalier's
voice? "

" The chevalier is with La Guerchi, and even if
he had left her this would not have been his way
to rejoin us. Let us go on and leave the dead in
peace."

" Look, Jeannin ! what is that in front of us ? "

" On that stone ? A man who has fallen ! "

" Yes, and bathed in blood," exclaimed de Jars,
who had darted to his side. "Ah! it's he! it's he!
Look, his eyes are closed, his hands cold ! My child
— he does not hear me! Oh, who has murdered
him?"

He fell on his knees, and threw himself on
the body with every mark of the most violent
despair.

" Come, come," said Jeannin, surprised at such
an explosion of grief from a man accustomed to
duels, and who on several similar occasions had been
far from displaying much tenderness of heart, " col-

1739

CELEBRATED CRIMES

lect yourself, and don't give way like a woman.
Perhaps the wound is not mortal. Let us try to
stop the bleeding and call for help."

" No, no "

"Are you mad?"

" Don't call, for Heaven's sake ! The wound is
here, near the heart. Your handkerchief, Jeannin,
to arrest the flow of blood. There — now help me to
lift him."

" What does that mean ? " cried Jeannin, who
had just laid his hand on the chevalier. " I don't
know whether I'm awake or asleep! Why,
it's a "

"Be silent, on your life! I shall explain every-
thing— but now be silent; there is someone looking
at us."

There was indeed a man wrapped in a mantle
standing motionless some steps away.

" What are you doing here ? " asked de Jars.

"May I ask what you are doing, gentlemen ? '*
retorted Maitre Quennebert, in a calm and steady
voice.

"Your curiosity may cost you dear, monsieur;
we are not in the habit of allowing our actions to be
spied on."

" And I am not in the habit of running useless
risks, most noble cavaliers. You are, it is true, two
against one; but," he added, throwing back his

1740

LA CONSTANTIN

cloak and grasping the hilts of a pair of pistoHs
stuck in his belt, " these will make us equal. You
are mistaken as to my intentions. I had no thought
of playing the spy ; it was chance alone that led me
here; and you must acknowledge that finding you
in this lonely spot, engaged as you are at this hour
of the night, was quite enough to awake the curi-
osity of a man as little disposed to provoke a quarrel
as to submit to threats."

" It was chance also that brought us here. We
were crossing the square, my friend and I, when we
heard groans. We followed the sound, and found
this young gallant, who is a stranger to us, lying
here, with a wound in his breast."

As the moon at that moment gleamed doubtfully
forth, Maitre Quennebert bent for an instant over
the body of the wounded man, and said —

" I know him no more than you. But supposing
someone were to come upon us here, we might
easily be taken for three assassins holding a con-
sultation over the corpse of our victim. What were
you going to do?"

"Take him to a doctor. It would be inhuman to
leave him here, and while we are talking precious
time is being lost."

" Do you belong to this neighbourhood ? "

" No," said the treasurer.

" Neither do I," said Quennebert, " but I believe
1741

CELEBRATED CRIMES

I have heard the name of a surgeon who lives close
by, in the rue Hauteville."

" I also know of one," interposed de Jars, " a
very skilful man."

" You may command me."

" Gladly, monsieur ; for he lives some distance
from here."

" I am at your service."

De Jars and Jeannin raised the chevalier's shoul-
ders, and the stranger supported his legs, and carry-
ing their burden in this order, they set off.

They walked slowly, looking about them care-
fully, a precaution rendered necessary by the fact
that the moon now rode in a cloudless sky. They
glided over the Pont Saint-Michel between the
houses that lined both sides, and, turning to the
right, entered one of the narrow streets of the Cite,
and after many turnings, during which they met no
one, they stopped at the door of a house situated
behind the H6tel-de-Ville.

" Many thanks, monsieur," said de Jars, — " many
thanks ; we need no further help."

As the commander spoke, Maitre Quennebert let
the feet of the chevalier fall abruptly on the pave-
ment, while de Jars and the treasurer still supported
his body, and, stepping back two paces, he drew
his pistols from his belt, and placing a finger on each
trigger, said —

1742

LA CONSTANTIN

" Do not stir, messieurs, or you are dead men."

Both, although encumbered by their burden, laid
their hands upon their swords.

" Not a movement, not a sound, or I shoot."

There was no reply to this argument, it being a
convincing one even for two duellists. The bravest
man turns pale when he finds himself face to face
with sudden inevitable death, and he who threat-
ened seemed to be one who would, without hesita-
tion, carry out his threats. There was nothing for
it but obedience, or a ball through them as they
stood.

" What do you want with us, sir ? " asked Jeannin.

Quennebert, without changing his attitude, re-
plied—

" Commander de Jars, and you, Messire Jeannin
de Castille, king's treasurer, — you see, my gentles,
that besides the advantage of arms which strike
swiftly and surely, I have the further advantage of
knowing who you are, whilst I am myself unknown,
— you will carry the wounded man into this house,
into which I will not enter, for I have nothing to do
within; but I shall remain here, to await your re-
turn. After you have handed over the patient to
the doctor, you will procure paper and write — now
pay great attention — that on November 20th, 1658,
about midnight, you, aided by an unknown man,
carried to this house, the address of which you will

1743

CELEBRATED CRIMES

give, a young man whom you call the Chevalier de
Moranges, and pass off as your nephew "

" As he really is."

" Very well."

" But who told you ? "

" Let me go on : who had been wounded in a fight
with swords on the same night behind the church
of Saint-Andre-des-Arts by the Due de Vitry."

" The Due de Vitry ! — How do you know that ? "

" No matter how, I know it for a fact. Having
made this declaration, you will add that the said
Chevalier de Moranges is no other than Josephine-
Charlotte Boullenois, whom you, commander, ab-
ducted four months ago from the convent of La
Raquette, whom you have made your mistress, and
whom you conceal disguised as a man; then you
will add your signature. Is my information cor-
rect?"

De Jars and Jeannin were speechless with sur-
prise for a few instants; then the former stam-
mered—

" Will you tell us who you are ? "

" The devil in person, if you like. Well, will you
do as I order? Supposing that I am awkward
enough not to kill you at two paces, do you want
me to ask you in broad daylight and aloud what I
now ask at night and in a whisper? And don't
think to put me off with a false declaration, relying

1744

LA CONSTANTIN

on my not being able to read it by the light of the
moon; don't think either that you can take me by
surprise when you hand it me : you will bring it to
me with your swords sheathed as now. If this con-
dition is not observed, I shall fire, and the noise will
bring a crowd about us. To-morrow I shall speak
differently from to-day: I shall proclaim the truth
at all the street corners, in the squares, and under
the windows of the Louvre. It is hard, I know, for
men of spirit to yield to threats, but recollect that
you are in my power and that there is no disgrace in
paying a ransom for a life that one cannot defend.
What do you say?"

In spite of his natural courage, Jeannin, who
found himself involved in an affair from which he
had nothing to gain, and who was not at all desirous
of being suspected of having helped in an abduction,
whispered to the commander —

" Faith ! I think our wisest course is to consent."

De Jars, however, before replying, wished to try
if he could by any chance throw his enemy off his
guard for an instant, so as to take him unawares.
His hand still rested on the hilt of his sword, motion-
less, but ready to draw.

" There is someone coming over yonder," he
cried, — " do you hear? "

" You can't catch me in that way," said Quenne-
bert. " Even were there anyone coming, I should

1745

CELEBRATED CRIMES

not look round, and if you move your hand all is
over with you."

" Well," said Jeannin, " I surrender at discretion
— not on my own account, but out of regard for my
friend and this woman. However, we are entitled
to some pledge of your silence. This statement that
you demand, once written, — you can ruin us to-
morrow by its means."

" I don't yet know what use I shall make of it,
gentlemen. Make up your minds, or you will have
nothing but a dead body to place in the doctor's
hands. There is no escape for you."

For the first time the wounded man faintly
groaned.

"I must save her!" cried de Jars, — "I yield."

" And I swear upon my honour that I will never
try to get this woman out of your hands, and that
I will never interfere with your conquest. Knock,
gentlemen, and remain as long as may be necessary.
I am patient. Pray to God, if you will, that
she may recover; my one desire is that she may
die."

They entered the house, and Quennebert, wrap-
ping himself once more in his mantle, walked up
and down before it, stopping to listen from time to
time. In about two hours the commander and the
treasurer came out again, and handed him a written
paper in the manner agreed on.

1746

LA CONSTANTIN

" I greatly fear that it will be a certificate of
death," said de Jars.

" Heaven grant it, commander ! Adieu, mes-
sieurs."

He then withdrew, walking backwards, keeping
the two friends covered with his pistols until he had
placed a sufificient distance between himself and them
to be out of danger of an attack.

The two gentlemen on their part walked rapidly
away, looking round from time to time, and keeping
their ears open. They were very much mortified at
having been forced to let a mere boor dictate to
them, and anxious, especially de Jars, as to the
result of the wound.

1747

CHAPTER VII

ON the day following this extraordinary series
of adventures, explanations between those
who were mixed up in them, whether as actors or
spectators, were the order of the day. It was not
till Maitre Quennebert reached the house of the
friend who had offered to put him up for the night
that it first dawned on him, that the interest which
the Chevalier de Moranges had awakened in his
mind had made him utterly forget the bag contain-
ing the twelve hundred livres which he owed to the
generosity of the widow. This money being neces-
sary to him, he went back to her early next morn-
ing. He found her hardly recovered from her ter-
rible fright. Her swoon had lasted far beyond
the time when the notary had left the house; and
as Angelique, not daring to enter the bewitched
room, had taken refuge in the most distant corner
of her apartments, the feeble call of the widow
was heard by no one. Receiving no answer,
Madame Rapally groped her way into the next
room, and finding that empty, buried herself be-
neath the bedclothes, and passed the rest of the

1748

LA CONSTANTIN

night dreaming of drawn swords, duels, and mur-
ders. As soon as it was light she ventured into
the mysterious room once more, without calling
her servants, and found the bag of crowns lying
open on the floor, with the coins scattered all
around, the partition broken, and the tapestry hang-
ing from it in shreds. The widow was near faint-
ing again : she imagined at first she saw stains of
blood everywhere, but a closer inspection having
somewhat reassured her, she began to pick up the
coins that had rolled to right and left, and was
agreeably surprised to find the tale complete. But
how and why had Maitre Quennebert abandoned
them? What had become of him? She had got
lost in the most absurd suppositions and conjectures
when the notary appeared. Discovering from the
first words she uttered that she was in complete
ignorance of all that had taken place, he explained
to her that when the interview between the cheva-
lier and Mademoiselle de Guerchi had just at the
most interesting moment been so unceremoniously
interrupted by the arrival of the duke, he had
become so absorbed in watching them that he had
not noticed that the partition was bending before
the pressure of his body, and that just as the duke
drew his sword it suddenly gave way, and he,
Quennebert, being thus left without support, tum-
bled head foremost into the next room, among a

1749

CELEBRATED CRIMES

perfect chaos of overturned furniture and lamps;
that almost before he could rise he was forced to
draw in self-defence, and had to make his escape,
defending himself against both the duke and the
chevalier; that they had pursued him so hotly, that
when he found himself free he was too far from
the house and the hour was too advanced to admit
of his returning. Quennebert added innumerable
protestations of friendship, devotion, and gratitude,
and, furnished with his twelve hundred crowns,
went away, leaving the widow reassured as to his
safety, but still shaken from her fright.

While the notary was thus soothing the widow,
Angelique was exhausting all the expedients her
trade had taught her in the attempt to remove the
duke's suspicions. She asserted she was the victim
of an unforeseen attack which nothing in her con-
duct had ever authorised. The young Chevalier de
Moranges had gained admittance, she declared,
under the pretext that he brought her news from
the duke, the one man who occupied her thoughts,
the sole object of her love. The chevalier had seen
her lover, he said, a few days before, and by clev-
erly appealing to things back, he had led her to fear
that the duke had grown tired of her, and that a
new conquest was the cause of his absence. She
had not believed these insinuations, although his
long silence would have justified the most mortify-

1750

LA CONSTANTIN

ing suppositions, the most cruel doubts. At length
the chevalier had grown bolder, and had declared
his passion for her; whereupon she had risen and
ordered him to leave her. Just at that moment the
duke had entered, and had taken the natural agita-
tion and confusion of the chevalier as signs of her
guilt. Some explanation was also necessary to ac-
count for the presence of the two other visitors of
whom he had been told below stairs. As he knew
nothing at all about them, the servant who admitted
them never having seen either of them before, she
acknowledged that two gentlemen had called earlier
in the evening; that they had refused to send in
their names, but as they had said they had come to
inquire about the duke, she suspected them of hav-
ing been in league with the chevalier in the attempt
to ruin her reputation, perhaps they had even prom-
ised to help him to carry her off, but she knew
nothing positive about them or their plans. The
duke, contrary to his wont, did not allow himself to
be easily convinced by these lame explanations, but
unfortunately for him the lady knew how to assume
an attitude favourable to her purpose. She had
been induced, she said, with the simple confidence
born of love, to listen to people who had led her
to suppose they could give her news of one so dear
to her as the duke. From this falsehood she pro-
ceeded to bitter reproaches: instead of defending

175 1

CELEBRATED CRIMES

herself, she accused him of having left her a prey-
to anxiety; she went so far as to imply that there
must be some foundation for the hints of the cheva-
lier, until at last the duke, although he was not
guilty of the slightest infidelity, and had excellent
reasons to give in justification of his silence, was
soon reduced to a penitent mood, and changed his
threats into entreaties for forgiveness. As to the
shriek he had heard, and which he was sure had
been uttered by the stranger who had forced his
way into her room after the departure of the others,
she asserted that his ears must have deceived him.
Feeling that therein lay her best chance of making
things smooth, she exerted herself to convince him
that there was no need for other information
than she could give, and did all she could to blot
the whole affair from his memory ; and her success
was such that at the end of the interview the duke
was more enamoured and more credulous than ever,
and believing he had done her wrong, he delivered
himself up to her, bound hand and foot. Two days
later he installed his mistress in another dwelling.

Madame Rapally also resolved to give up her
rooms, and removed to a house that belonged to her
on the Pont Saint-Alichel.

The commander took the condition of Charlotte
Boullenois very much to heart. The physician un-
der whose care he had placed her, after examining

1752

LA CONSTANTIN

her wounds, had not given much hope of her recov-
ery. It was not that de Jars was capable of a last-
ing love, but Charlotte was young and possessed
great beauty, and the romance and mystery sur-
rounding their connection gave it piquancy. Char-
lotte's disguise, too, which enabled de Jars to con-
ceal his success and yet flaunt it in the face, as it
were, of public morality and curiosity, charmed him
by its audacity, and above all he was carried away
by the bold and uncommon character of the girl,
who, not content with a prosaic intrigue, had tram-
pled underfoot all social prejudices and proprieties,
and plunged at once into unmeasured and unre-
strained dissipation; the singular mingling in her
nature of the vices of both sexes; the unbridled
licentiousness of the courtesan coupled with the
devotion of a man for horses, wine, and fencing;
in short, her eccentric character, as it would now be
called, kept a passion alive which would else have
quickly died away in his hlase heart. Nothing
would induce him to follow Jeannin's advice to
leave Paris for at least a few weeks, although he
shared Jeannin's fear that the statement they had
been forced to give the stranger would bring them
into trouble. The treasurer, who had no love affair
on hand, went off ; but the commander bravely held
his ground, and at the end of five or six days, dur-
ing which no one disturbed him, began to think the

1753

CELEBRATED CRIMES

only result of the incident would be the anxiety it
had caused him.

Every evening as soon as it was dark he betook
himself to the doctor's, wrapped in his cloak, armed
to the teeth, and his hat pulled down over his eyes.
For two days and nights, Charlotte, whom to avoid
confusion we shall continue to call the Chevalier de
Moranges, hovered between life and death. Her
youth and the strength of her constitution enabled
her at last to overcome the fever, in spite of the want
of skill of the surgeon Perregaud.

Although de Jars was the only person who vis-
ited the chevalier, he was not the only one who was
anxious about the patient's health, Maitre Quenne-
bert, or men engaged by him to watch, for he did
not want to attract attention, were always prowling
about the neighbourhood, so that he was kept well
informed of everything that went on. The instruc-
tions he gave to these agents were, that if a funeral
should leave the house, they were to find out the
name of the deceased, and then to let him know
without delay. But all these precautions seemed
quite useless: he always received the same answer
to all his questions, " We know nothing." So at
last he determined to address himself directly to
the man who could give him information on which
he could rely.

One night the commander left the surgeon's feel-
1754

LA CONSTANTIN

ing more cheerful than usual, for the chevalier had
passed a good day, and there was every hope that
he was on the road to complete recovery. Hardly
had de Jars gone twenty paces when someone laid
a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw a man
whom, in the darkness, he did not recognise.

" Excuse me for detaining you, Commander de
Jars," said Quennebert, " but I have a word to say
to you."

" Ah ! so it's you, sir," replied the commander.
" Are you going at last to give me the opportunity
I was so anxious for?"

"I don't understand."

" We are on more equal terms this time ; to-day
you don't catch me unprepared, almost without
weapons, and if you are a man of honour you will
measure swords with me."

" Fight a duel with you! why, may I ask? You
have never insulted me."

" A truce to pleasantry, sir ; don't make me re-
gret that I have shown myself more generous than
you. I might have killed you just now had I wished.
I could have put my pistol to your breast and fired,
or said to you, ' Surrender at discretion ! ' as you
so lately said to me."

" And what use would that have been? "

" It would have made a secret safe that you ought
never to have known."

1755

CELEBRATED CRIMES

" It would have been the most unfortunate thing
for you that could have happened, for if you had
killed me the paper would have spoken. So! you
think that if you were to assassinate me you would
only have to stoop over my dead body and search
my pockets, and, having found the incriminating
document, destroy it. You seem to have formed no
very high opinion of my intelligence and common
sense. You of the upper classes don't need these
qualities, the law is on your side. But when a hum-
ble individual like myself, a mere nobody, under-
takes to investigate a piece of business about which
those in authority are not anxious to be enlightened,
precautions are necessary. It's not enough for him
to have right on his side, he must, in order to secure
his own safety, make good use of his skill, courage,
and knowledge. I have no desire to humiliate you
a second time, so I will say no more. The paper is
in the hands of my notary, and if a single day
passes without his seeing me he has orders to break
the seal and make the contents public. So you see
chance is still on my side. But now that you are
warned there is no need for me to bluster. I am
quite prepared to acknowledge your superior rank,
and if you insist upon it, to speak to you un-
covered."

" What do you desire to know, sir? "
** How is the Chevalier de Moranges getting on ? "
1756

LA CONSTANTIN

" Very badly, very badly."

" Take care, commander ; don't deceive me. One
is so easily tempted to believe what one hopes, and
I hope so strongly that I dare not believe what you
say. I saw you coming out of the house, not at all
with the air of a man who had just heard bad
news. Quite the contrary: you looked at the sky,
and rubbed your hands, and walked with a light,
quick step, that did not speak of grief."

" You're a sharp observer, sir."

" I have already explained to you, sir, that when
one of us belonging to a class hardly better than
serfs succeeds by chance or force of character in
getting out of the narrow bounds in which he was
born, he must keep both eyes and ears open. If I
had doubted your word as you have doubted mine
on the merest suspicion, you would have said to
your servants, ' Chastise this rascal.' But I am
obliged to prove to you that you did not tell me the
truth. Now I am sure that the chevalier is out
of danger."

"If you were so well informed why did you
ask me ? "

" I only knew it by your asserting the contrary."

" What do you mean ? " cried de Jars, who was
growing restive under this cold, satirical politeness.

" Do me justice, commander. The bit chafes,
but yet you must acknowledge that I have a light

1757

CELEBRATED CRIMES

hand. For a full week you have been in my power.
Have I disturbed your quiet? Have I betrayed
your secret? You know I have not. And I shall
continue to act in the same manner. I hope with all
my heart, however great would be your grief, that
the chevalier may die of his wound. I have not
the same reasons for loving him that you have, so
much you can readily understand, even if I do not
explain the cause of my interest in his fate. But
in such a matter hopes count for nothing ; they can-
not make his temperature either rise or fall. I have
told you I have no wish to force the chevalier to
resume his real name. I may make use of the docu-
ment and I may not, but if I am obliged to use it I
shall give you warning. Will you, in return, swear
to me upon your honour that you will keep me in-
formed as to the fate of the chevalier, whether you
remain in Paris or whether you leave? But let
this agreement be a secret between us, and do not
mention it to the so-called Moranges."

" I have your oath, monsieur, that you will give
me notice before you use the document I have given
you against me, have I ? But what guarantee have
I that you will keep your word ? "

" My course of action till to-day, and the fact that
I have pledged you my word of my own free will."

" I see, you hope not to have long to wait for
the end."

175S

LA CONSTANTIN

" I hope not ; but meantime a premature dis-
closure would do me as much harm as you. I have
not the slightest rancour against you, commander;
you have robbed me of no treasure; I have there-
fore no compensation to demand. What you place
such value on would be only a burden to me, as it
will be to you later on. All I want is, to know as
soon as it is no longer in your possession, whether
it has been removed by the will of God or by your
own. I am right in thinking that to-day there is
some hope of the chevalier's recovery, am I not ? "

" Yes, sir."

" Do you give me your promise that if ever he
leave this house safe and sound you will let me
know ? "

" I give you my promise."

" And if the result should be different, you will
also send me word ? "

" Certainly. But to whom shall I address my
message ? "

" I should have thought that since our first meet-
ing you would have found out all about me, and
that to tell you my name would be superfluous.
But I have no reason to hide it: Maitre Quenne-
bert, notary, Saint-Denis. I will not detain you
any longer now, commander; excuse a simple
citizen for dictating conditions to a noble such
as you. For once chance has been on my side,

1759

CELEBRATED CRIMES

although a score of times it has gone against
me."

De Jars made no reply except a nod, and walked
away quickly, muttering words of suppressed anger
between his teeth at all the humiliations to which
he had been obliged to submit so meekly.

" He's as insolent as a varlet who has no fear of
a larruping before his eyes : how the rapscallion
gloried in taking advantage of his position! Tak-
ing off his hat while putting his foot on my neck!
If ever I can be even with you, my worthy scriv-
ener, you'll pass a very bad quarter of an hour, I
can tell you."

Everyone has his own idea of what constitutes
perfect honour. De Jars, for instance, would have
allowed himself to be cut up into little pieces rather
than have broken the promise he had given Quenne-
bert a week ago, because it was given in exchange
for his life, and the slightest paltering with his word
under those circumstances would have been das-
tardly. But the engagement into which he had just
entered had in his eyes no such moral sanction ; he
had not been forced into it by threats, he had es-
caped by its means no serious danger, and therefore
in regard to it his conscience was much more accom-
modating. What he should best have liked to do
would have been to have sought out the notary and
provoked him by insults to send him a challenge.

1760

Exhausted by the effort, he tripped and fell backward over
a large stone.

—p. 1738
From the orUjinal illustration by Bourdet

LA CONSTANTIN

That a clown such as that could have any chance of
leaving the ground alive never entered his head.
But willingly as he would have encompassed his
death in this manner, the knowledge that his secret
would not die with Quennebert restrained him, for
when everything came out he felt that the notary's
death would be regarded as an aggravation of his
original offence, and in spite of his rank he was not
at all certain that if he were put on his trial even
now he would escape scot free, much less if a new
offence were added to the indictment. So, how-
ever much he might chafe against the bit, he felt
he must submit to the bridle.

" By God ! " said he, " I know what the clod-
hopper is after; and even if I must suffer in conse-
quence, I shall take good care that he cannot shake
off his bonds. Wait a bit ! I can play the detective
too, and be down on him without letting hiiii see
the hand that deals the blows. It'll be a wonder
if I can't find a naked sword to suspend above his
head."

However, while thus brooding over projects of
vengeance, Commander de Jars kept his word, and
about a month after the interview above related he
sent word to Quennebert that the Chevalier de
Moranges had left Perregaud's completely recov-
ered from his wound. But the nearly fatal result of
the chevalier's last prank seemed to have subdued

1 761

Dumas — Vol. 5 — J

-^L.

CELEBRATED CRIMES

his adventurous spirit; he was no longer seen in
public, and was soon forgotten by all his acquaint-
ances with the exception of Mademoiselle de Guer-
chi. She faithfully treasured up the memory of his
words of passion, his looks of love, the warmth of
his caresses, although at first she struggled hard
to chase his image from her heart. But as the Due
de Vitry assured her that he had killed him on the
spot, she considered it no breach of faith to think
lovingly of the dead, and while she took the goods
so bounteously provided by her living lover, her
gentlest thoughts, her most enduring regrets, were
given to one whom she never hoped to see again.

1762

CHAPTER VIII

WITH the reader's permission, we must now
jump over an interval of rather more than
a year, and bring upon the stage a person who,
though only of secondary importance, can no longer
be left behind the scenes.

We have already said that the loves of Quenne-
bert and Madame Rapally were regarded with a
jealous eye by a distant cousin of the lady's late
husband. The love of this rejected suitor, whose
name was Trumeau, was no more sincere than the
notary's, nor were his motives more honourable.
Although his personal appearance was not such as
to lead him to expect that his path would be strewn
with conquests, he considered that his charms at
least equalled those of his defunct relative; and it
may be said that in thus estimating them he did not
lay himself open to the charge of overweening
vanity. But however persistently he preened him-
self before the widow, she vouchsafed him not one
glance. Her heart was filled with the love of his
rival, and it is no easy thing to tear a rooted passion
out of a widow's heart when that widow's age is

1763

CELEBRATED CRIMES

forty-six, and she is silly enough to believe that
the admiration she feels is equalled by tlie admira-
tion she inspires, as the unfortunate Trumeau
found to his cost. All his carefully prepared
declarations of love, all his skilful insinuations
against Quennebert, brought him nothing but scorn-
ful rebuffs. But Trumeau was nothing if not per-
severing, and he could not habituate himself to the
idea of seeing the widow's fortune pass into other
hands than his own, so that every baffled move only
increased his determination to spoil his competitor's
game. He was always on the watch for a chance
to carry tales to the widow, and so absorbed did
he become in this fruitless pursuit, that he grew
yellower and more dried up from day to day, and
to his jaundiced eye the man who was at first sim-
ply his rival became his mortal enemy and the ob-
ject of his implacable hate, so that at length merely
to get the better of him, to outwit him, would, after
so long-continued and obstinate a struggle and so
many defeats, have seemed to him too mild a ven-
geance, too incomplete a victory.

Quennebert was well aware of the zeal with
which the indefatigable Trumeau sought to injure
him. But he regarded the manoeuvres of his rival
with supreme unconcern, for he knew that he could
at any time sweep away the network of cunning
machinations, underhand insinuations, and mali-

1764

LA CONSTANTIN

cious hints, which was spread around him, by allow-
ing the widow to confer on him the advantages she
was so anxious to bestow. The goal, he knew, was
within his reach, but the problem he had to solve
was how to linger on the way thither, how to defer
the triumphal moment, how to keep hope alive in
the fair one's breast and yet delay its fruition. His
affairs were in a bad way. Day by day full posses-
sion of the fortune thus dangled before his eyes,
and fragments of which came to him occasionally
by way of loan, was becoming more and more indis-
pensable, and tantalising though it was, yet he
dared not put out his hand to seize it. His cred-
itors dunned him relentlessly : one final reprieve had
been granted him, but that at an end, if he could
not meet their demands, it was all up with his
career and reputation.

One morning in the beginning of February 1660,
Trumeau called to see his cousin. He had not been
there for nearly a month, and Quennebert and the
widow had begun to think that, hopeless of success,
he had retired from the contest. But, far from that,
his hatred had grown more intense than ever, and
having come upon the traces of an event in the past
life of his rival which if proved would be the ruin
of that rival's hopes, he set himself to gather evi-
dence. He now made his appearance with beam-
ing looks, which expressed a joy too great for

1765

CELEBRATED CRIMES

words. He held in one hand a small scroll tied
with a ribbon. He found the widow alone, sitting
in a large easy-chair before the fire. She was read-
ing for the twentieth time a letter which Quenne-
bert had written her the evening before. To judge
by the happy and contented expression of the wid-
ow's face, it must have been couched in glowing
terms. Trurneau guessed at once from whom the
missive came, but the sight of it, instead of irrita-
ting him, called forth a smile,

" Ah! so it's you, cousin? " said the widow, fold-
ing the precious paper and slipping it into the bosom
of her dress, " How do you do ? It's a long time
since I saw you, more than a fortnight, I think.
Have you been ill ? "

" So you remarked my absence ! That is very
flattering, my dear cousin; you do not often spoil
me by such attentions. No, I have not been ill,
thank God, but I thought it better not to intrude
upon you so often. A friendly call now and then
such as to-day's is what you like, is it not ? By the
way, tell me about your handsome suitor, Maitre
Quennebert ; how is he getting along? "

" You look very knowing, Trurneau : have you
heard of anything happening to him? "

" No, and I should be exceedingly sorry to
hear that anything unpleasant had happened to
him."

1766

LA CONSTANTIN

" Now you are not saying what you think, you
know you can't bear him."

" Well, to speak the truth, I have no great reason
to like him. If it were not for him, I should per-
haps have been happy to-day; my love might have
moved your heart. However, I have become re-
signed to my loss, and since your choice has fallen
on him," — and here he sighed, — " well, all I can
say is, I hope you may never regret it."

" Many thanks for your goodwill, cousin ; I am
delighted to find you in such a benevolent mood.
You must not be vexed because I could not give
you the kind of love you wanted; the heart, you
know, is not amenable to reason."

" There is only one thing I should like to ask."

"What is it?"

" I mention it for your good more than for my
own. If you want to be happy, don't let this hand-
some quill-driver get you entirely into his hands.
You are saying to yourself that because of my ill-
success with you I am trying to injure him; but
what if I could prove that he does not love you as
much as he pretends ? "

" Come, come, control your naughty tongue !
Are you going to begin backbiting again? You
are playing a mean part, Trumeau. I have never
hinted to Maitre Quennebert all the nasty little ways
in which you have tried to put a spoke in his wheel,

1767

CELEBRATED CRIMES

for if he knew he would ask you to prove your
words, and then you would look very foolish."

" Not at all, I swear to you. On the contrary,
if I were to tell all I know in his presence, it is not
I who would be disconcerted. Oh ! I am weary of
meeting with nothing from you but snubs, scorn,
and abuse. You think me a slanderer when I say,
* This gallant wooer of widows does not love you
for yourself but for your money-bags. He fools
you by fine promises, but as to marrying you —
never, never!' "

" May I ask you to repeat that? " broke in Mad-
ame Rapally.

" Oh ! I know what I am saying. You will never
be Madame Quennebert."

"Really?"

" Really."

" Jealousy has eaten away whatever brains you
used to possess, Trumeau. Since I saw you last,
cousin, important changes have taken place: I was
just going to send you to-day an invitation to my
wedding."

" To your wedding? "

"Yes; I am to be married to-morrow."

" To-morrow ? To Quennebert ? " stammered
Trumeau.

" To Quennebert," repeated the widow in a tone
of triumph.

1768

LA CONSTANTIN

" It's not possible ! " exclaimed Trumeau.

" It is so possible that you will see us united to-
morrow. And for the future I must beg of you to
regard Quennebert no longer as a rival but as my
husband, whom to offend will be to offend me."

The tone in which these words were spoken no
longer left room for doubt as to the truth of the
news. Trumeau looked down for a few moments,
as if reflecting deeply before definitely making up
his mind. He twisted the little roll of papers be-
tween his fingers, and seemed to be in doubt
whether to open it and give it to Madame Rapally
to read or not. In the end, however, he put it in
his pocket, rose, and approaching his cousin, said —

" I beg your pardon, this news completely changes
my opinion. From the moment Maitre Quenne-
bert becomes your husband I shall not have a word
to say against him. My suspicions were unjust, I
confess it frankly, and I hope that in consideration
of the motives which prompted me you will forget
the warmth of my attacks. I shall make no pro-
testations, but shall let the future show how sin-
cere is my devotion to your interests."

Madame Rapally was too happy, too certain of
being loved, not to pardon easily. With the self-
complacency and factitious generosity of a woman
who feels herself the object of two violent passions,
she was so good as to feel pity for the lover who

1769

CELEBRATED CRIMES

was left out in the cold, and offered him her hand.
Trumeau kissed it with every outward mark of re-
spect, while his lips curled unseen in a smile of
mockery. The cousins parted, apparently the best
of friends, and on the understanding that Trumeau
would be present at the nuptial benediction, which
was to be given in a church beyond the town hall,
near the house in which the newly-married couple
were to live; the house on the Pont Saint-Michel
having lately been sold to great advantage.

" On my word," said Trumeau, as he went off,
" it would have been a great mistake to have spoken.
I have got that wretch of a Quennebert into my
clutches at last ; and there is nobody but himself to
blame. He is taking the plunge of his own free
will, there is no need for me to shove him off the
.precipice."

The ceremony took place next day. Quennebert
conducted his interesting bride to the altar, she
hung with ornaments like the shrine of a saint, and,
beaming all over with smiles, looked so ridiculous
that the handsome bridegroom reddened to the roots
of his hair with shame. Just as they entered the
church, a coffin, on which lay a sword, and which
was followed by a single mourner, who from his
manners and dress seemed to belong to the class of
nobles, was carried in by the same door. The wed-
ding guests drew back to let the funeral pass on,

1770

LA CONSTANTIN

the living giving precedence to the dead. The soli-
tary mourner glanced by chance at Quennebert,
and started as if the sight of him was painful.

" What an unlucky meeting ! " murmured Mad-
ame Rapally ; " it is sure to be a bad omen."

" It's sure to be the exact opposite," said Quenne-
bert, smiling.

The two ceremonies took place simultaneously
in two adjoining chapels ; the funeral dirges which
fell on the widow's ear full of sinister prediction
seemed to have quite another meaning for Quenne-
bert, for his features lost their look of care, his
wrinkles smoothed themselves out, till the guests,
among whom was Trumeau, who did not suspect
the secret of his relief from suspense, began to
believe, despite their surprise, that he was really
rejoiced at obtaining legal possession of the charm-
ing Madame Rapally.

As for her, she fleeted the daylight hours by
anticipating the joyful moment when she would
have her husband all to herself. When night came,
hardly had she entered the nuptial chamber than
she uttered a piercing shriek. She had just found
and read a paper left on the bed by Trumeau, who
before leaving had contrived to glide into the room
unseen. Its contents were of terrible import, so
terrible that the new-made wife fell unconscious
to the ground.

1771

CELEBRATED CRIMES

Quennebert, who, without a smile, was absorbed
in reflections on the happiness at last within his
grasp, heard the noise from the next room, and
rushing in, picked up his wife. Catching sight
of the paper, he also uttered a cry of anger and
astonishment, but in whatever circumstances he
found himself he was never long uncertain how to
act. Placing Madame Quennebert, still uncon-
scious, on the bed, he called her maid, and, having
impressed on her that she was to take every care
of her mistress, and above all to tell her from him
as soon as she came to herself that there was no
cause for alarm, he left the house at once. An hour
later, in spite of the efforts of the servants, he
forced his way into the presence of Commander de
Jars. Holding out the fateful document to him,
he said —

" Speak openly, commander ! Is it you who in
revenge for your long constraint have done this?
I can hardly think so, for after what has happened
you know that I have nothing to fear any longer.
Still, knowing my secret and unable to do it in any
other way, have you perchance taken your revenge
by an attempt to destroy my future happiness by
sowing dissension and disunion between me and
my wife? "

The commander solemnly assured him that he
had had no hand in bringing about the discovery.

1772

LA CONSTANTIN

"Then if it's not you, it must be a worthless
being called Trumeau, who, with the unerring in-
stinct of jealousy, has run the truth to earth. But
he knows only half: I have never been either so
much in love or so stupid as to allow myself to be
trapped. I have given you my promise to be dis-
creet and not to misuse my power, and as long as
was compatible with my own safety I have kept
my word. But now you must see that I am bound
to defend myself, and to do that I shall be obliged
to summon you as a witness. So leave Paris to-
night and seek out some safe retreat where no one
can find you, for to-morrow I shall speak. Of
course if I am quit for a woman's tears, if
no more difficult task lies before me than to soothe
a weeping wife, you can return immendiately ;
but if, as is too probable, the blow has been
struck by the hand of a rival furious at having
been defeated, the matter will not so easily be cut
short; the arm of the law will be invoked, and
then I must get my head out of the noose which
some fingers I know of are itching to draw
tight."

" You are quite right, sir," answered the com-
mander ; " I fear that my influence at court is not
strong enough to enable me to brave the matter
out. Well, my success has cost me dear, but it has
cured me for ever of seeking out similar adven-

1773

CELEBRATED CRIMES

tures. My preparations will not take long,
and to-morrow's dawn will find me far from
Paris."

Quennebert bowed and withdrew, returning home
to console his Ariadne.

1774

CHAPTER IX

THE accusation hanging over the head of
Maitre Quennebert was a very serious one,
threatening his hfe, if proved. But he w^as not
uneasy; he knew himself in possession of facts
which would enable him to refute it triumphantly.
The platonic love of Angelique de Guerchi for
the handsome Chevalier de Moranges had resulted,
as we have seen, in no practical wrong to the Due
de Vitry. After her reconciliation with her lover,
brought about by the eminently satisfactory explana-
tions she was able to give of her conduct, which
we have already laid before our readers, she did
not consider it advisable to shut her heart to his
pleadings much longer, and the consequence was
that at the end of a year she found herself in a
condition which it was necessary to conceal from
everyone. To Angelique herself, it is true, the
position was not new, and she felt neither grief nor
shame, regarding the coming event as a means of
making her future more secure by forging a new
link in the chain which bound the duke to her. But
he, sure that but for himself Angelique would

1775

CELEBRATED CRIMES

never have strayed from virtue's path, could not
endure the thought of her losing her reputation
and becoming an object for scandal to point her
finger at; so that Angelique, who could not well
seem less careful of her good name than he, was
obliged to turn his song of woe into a duet, and con-
sent to certain measures being taken.

One evening, therefore, shortly before Maitre
Quennebert's marriage, the fair lady set out, osten-
sibly on a journey which was to last a fortnight
or three weeks. In reality she only made a circle
in a post-chaise round Paris, which she re-entered
at one of the barriers, where the duke awaited her
with a sedan-chair. In this she was carried to the
very house to which de Jars had brought his pre-
tended nephew after the duel. Angelique, who
had to pay dearly for her errors, remained there
only twenty-four hours, and then left in her coffin,
which was hidden in a cellar under the palace of
the Prince de Conde, the body being covered with
quicklime. Two days after this dreadful death.
Commander de Jars presented himself at the fatal
house, and engaged a room in which he installed
the chevalier.

This house, which we are about to ask the reader
to enter with us, stood at the corner of the rue de la
Tixeranderie and the rue Deux-Portes. There was
nothing in the exterior of it to distinguish it from

1776

LA CONSTANTIN

any other, unless perhaps two brass plates, one of
which bore the words Marie Leroux-Constantin,
WiDow_, Certified Midwife, and the other Claude
Perregaud, Surgeon. These plates were affixed
to the blank wall in the rue de la Tixeranderie, the
windows of the rooms on that side looking into the
courtyard. The house door, which opened directly
on the first steps of a narrow winding stair, was
on the other side, just beyond the low arcade under
whose vaulted roof access was gained to that end of
the rue des Deux-Portes. This house, though
dirty, mean, and out of repair, received many
wealthy visitors, whose brilliant equipages waited
for them in the neighbouring streets. Often in the
night great ladies crossed its threshold under as-
sumed names and remained there for several days,
during which La Constantin and Claude Perregaud,
by an infamous use of their professional knowledge,
restored their clients to an outward appearance of
honour, and enabled them to maintain their reputa-
tion for virtue. The first and second floors con-
tained a dozen rooms in which these abominable
mysteries were practised. The large apartment,
which served as waiting and consultation room, was
oddly furnished, being crowded with objects of
strange and unfamiliar form. It resembled at once
the operating-room of a surgeon, the laboratory
of a chemist and alchemist, and the den of a sor-

1777

CELEBRATED CRIMES

cerer. There, mixed up together in the greatest
confusion, lay instruments of all sorts, caldrons and
retorts, as well as books containing the most absurd
ravings of the human mind. There were the twenty
folio volumes of Albertus Magnus; the works of
his disciple, Thomas de Cantopre, of Alchindus, of
Averroes, of Avicenna, of Alchabitius, of David
de Plaine-Campy, called L'Edelphe, surgeon to
Louis XIII and author of the celebrated book The
Morbific Hydra Exterminated by the Chemical Her-
cules. Beside a bronze head, such as the monk
Roger Bacon possessed, which answered all the
questions that were addressed to it and foretold the
future by means of a magic mirror and the com-
bination of the rules of perspective, lay an eggshell,
the same which had been used by Cayet, as d'Au-
bigne tells us, when making men out of germs,
mandrakes, and crimson silk, over a slow fire. In
the presses, which had sliding-doors fastening with
secret springs, stood jars filled with noxious drugs,
the power of which was but too efficacious ; in prom-
inent positions, facing each other, hung two por-
traits, one representing Hierophilos, a Greek phy-
sician, and the other Agnodice his pupil, the first
Athenian midwife.

For several years already La Constantin and
Claude Perregaud had carried on their criminal
practices without interference. A number of per-

1778

LA CONSTANTIN

sons were of course in the secret, but their interests
kept them silent, and the two accomplices had at last
persuaded themselves that they were perfectly safe.
One evening, however, Perregaud came home, his
face distorted by terror and trembling in every
limb. He had been warned while out that the sus-
picions of the authorities had been aroused in re-
gard to him and La Constantin. It seemed that
some little time ago, the Vicars-General had sent
a deputation to the president of the chief court of
justice, having heard from their priests that in one
year alone six hundred women had avowed in the
confessional that they had taken drugs to prevent
their having children. This had been sufficient to
arouse the vigilance of the police, who had set a
watch on Perregaud's house, with the result that
that very night a raid was to be made on it. The
two criminals took hasty counsel together, but, as
usual under such circumstances, arrived at no prac-
tical conclusions. It was only when the danger
was upon them that they recovered their presence
of mind. In the dead of night loud knocking at
the street door was heard, followed by the command
to open in the name of the king.

" We can yet save ourselves ! " exclaimed the
surgeon, with a sudden flash of inspiration.

Rushing into the room where the pretended
chevalier was lying, he called out —

1779

CELEBRATED CRIMES

"The police are coming up! If they discover
your sex you are lost, and so am I. Do as I tell
you."

At a sign from him, La Constantin went down
and opened the door. While the rooms on the first
floor were being searched, Perregaud made with a
lancet a superficial incision in the chevalier's right
arm, which gave very little pain, and bore a close
resemblance to a sword-cut. Surgery and medi-
line were at that time so inextricably involved,
required such apparatus, and bristled with such
scientific absurdities, that no astonishment was ex-
cited by the extraordinary collection of instruments
which loaded the tables and covered the floors be-
low : even the titles of certain treatises which there
had been no time to destroy, awoke no suspicion.

Fortunately for the surgeon and his accomplice,
they had only one patient — the chevalier — in their
house when the descent was made. When the
chevalier's room was reached, the first thing which
the officers of the law remarked were the hat,
spurred boots, and sword of the patient. Claude
Perregaud hardly looked up as the room was in-
vaded; he only made a sign to those who came in
to be quiet, and went on dressing the wound. Com-
pletely taken in, the officer in command merely
asked the name of the patient and the cause of
the wound. La Constantin replied that it was the

1780

LA CONSTANTIN

young- Chevalier de Moranges, nephew of Com-
mander de Jars, who had had an affair of honour
that same night, and being sightly wounded had
been brought thither by his uncle hardly an hour
before. These questions and the apparently trust-
worthy replies elicited by them being duly taken
down, the uninvited visitors retired, having discov-
ered nothing to justify their visit.

AH might have been well had there been nothing
the matter but the wound on the chevalier's sword-
arm. But at the moment when Perregaud gave it
to him the poisonous nostrums employed by La
Constantin were already working in his blood. Vio-
lent fever ensued, and in three days the chevalier
was dead. It was his funeral which had met
Quennebert's wedding party at the church door.

Everything turned out as Quennebert had anti-
cipated. Madame Quennebert, furious at the deceit
which had been practised on her, refused to listen
to her husband's justification, and Trumeau, not
letting the grass grow under his feet, hastened the '
next day to launch an accusation of bigamy against
the notary ; for the paper which had been found in
the nuptial chamber was nothing less than an at-
tested copy of a contract of marriage concluded
between Quennebert and Josephine-Charlotte Boul-
lenois. It was by the merest chance that Trumeau
had come on the record of the marriage, and he now

1781

CELEBRATED CRIMES

challenged his rival to produce a certificate of the
death of his first wife. Charlotte Boullenois, after
two years of marriage, had demanded a deed of
separation, which demand Quennebert had opposed.
While the case was going on she had retired to the
convent of La Raquette, where her intrigue with
de Jars began. The commander easily induced her
to let herself be carried off by force. He then con-
cealed his conquest by causing her to adopt male
attire, a mode of dress which accorded marvellously
well with her peculiar tastes and rather masculine
frame. At first Quennebert had instituted an active
but fruitless search for his missing wife, but soon
became habituated to his state of enforced single
blessedness, enjoying to the full the liberty it
brought with it. But his business had thereby suf-
fered, and once having made the acquaintance of
Madame Rapally, he cultivated it assiduously, know-
ing her fortune would be sufficient to set him
straight again with the world, though he was
obliged to exercise the utmost caution and reserve
in his intercourse with her, as she on her side dis-
played none of these qualities. At last, however,
matters came to such a pass that he must either
go to prison or run the risk of a second marriage.
So he reluctantly named a day for the ceremony,
resolving to leave Paris with Madame Rapally as
soon as he had settled with his creditors.

1782

LA CONSTANTIN

In the short interval which ensued, and while
Trumeau was hugging the knowledge of the dis-
covery he had made, a stroke of luck had brought
the pretended chevalier to La Constantin. As
Quennebert had kept an eye on de Jars and was
acquainted with all his movements, he was aware
of everything that happened at Perregaud's, and as
Charlotte's death preceded his second marriage by
one day, he knew that no serious consequences
would ensue from the legal proceedings taken
against him. He produced the declarations made
by Mademoiselle de Guerchi and the commander,
and had the body exhumed. Extraordinary and im-
probable as his defence appeared at first to be, the
exhumation proved the truth of his assertions.
These revelations, however, drew the eye of justice
again on Perregaud and his partner in crime, and
this time their guilt was brought home to them.
They were condemned by parliamentary decree to
" be hanged by the neck till they were dead, on a
gallows erected for that purpose at the cross roads
of the Croix-du-Trahoir ; their bodies to remain
there for twenty-four hours, then to be cut down
and brought back to Paris, where they were to be
exposed on a gibbet," etc., etc.

It was proved that they had amassed immense
fortunes in the exercise of their infamous calling.
The entries in the books seized at their house, though

1783

CELEBRATED CRIMES

sparse, would have led, if made public, to scandals,
involving many in high places; it was therefore
judged best to limit the accusation to the two deaths
by blood-poisoning of Angelique de Guerchi and
Charlotte Boullenois.

1784

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